Denial 101
by r4ven3
Summary: I always felt that Ruth's shooting of Rigaut would have left her traumatised, which it did, but in this story I am examining that time in more detail. I have kept Ros alive after the hotel bombing. 13 chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N : This fic begins in canon, with dialogue from script, but then veers off into AU. I always felt that Ruth having shot a man – and being a desk spook, that is hardly her job – was left hanging, never dealt with. This fic is my exploration of an alternative outcome from the events at the end of S9.07.**_

 _ **I have also kept Ros alive after the hotel bombing, because I consider her to be the best character to provide Harry with some much-needed perspective and balance, which he is in need of as this story progresses.**_

1\. Unravelling

" _You think I haven't forgiven you for George .. that I still grieve for him, for Nico's loss .. for the life I left behind." Harry drops his eyes to the floor, not wanting to hear what is coming. "The truth is much worse."_

" _What is the truth?"_

" _That I'm ready to go back to work – that's what's worse. That I killed a man last night .. and I'm fine."_

Harry couldn't stop the wave of sadness which rippled through him. He'd hoped they could recover from the aftermath of her return to the UK, but perhaps that was a hope too far, even for them. Then there were the events of the previous evening; Ruth, his gentle, sensitive Ruth had shot a man, while another had been left broken, unable to speak. He slowly moved to stand between Ruth and the doorway. "I can't let you go back to work, Ruth."

"Well, I'm not staying here."

He reached out to take her bag from her, but she clutched it, pulling it way from him. "I'll drive you home."

They stood eyeing one another, two people who had once cared deeply for one another, having been shattered by yet another violent and ultimately tragic event. Harry wished he had been the one to shoot the assassin; after all, he had killed before. He knew what to expect; he knew what Ruth had yet to endure. She would be brave, and strong, and cold, and then she would withdraw. She would find a safe place inside herself and she would stay there … until some totally unrelated event would cause her to crack, and then break. He had cracked so many times that each morning as he awoke he was surprised to find his battered body still in once piece. He didn't want this for her. He had never wanted this for her.

Suddenly all the fight left her. "All right," she said, and she released her bag so that it dropped to the floor, and then she moved robot-like towards the door. Harry picked up her bag and quickly followed her from the room. Her acquiescence was not yet a victory.

On the drive to Ruth's flat few words were exchanged. Ruth sat silent, staring morosely through the passenger side window, while Harry concentrated on the traffic. Inside her flat Ruth hurried upstairs with her bag while Harry remained in the living room, unsure of how to best tell her that a condition of her return to work was an assessment by the section psychologist. He did what Ruth would do were their roles reversed, and headed to the kitchen to make a pot of tea.

* * *

Later that day:

Harry looked up as Ros limped into his office. He believed she would have benefited from another month of sick leave, but he was happy she was back. She still needed the assistance of a walking stick for balance, and heaven help anyone who drew attention to it. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, but couldn't quite manage a smile. His right hand automatically reached for the glass of whisky, which he had poured, but not yet tasted. He took a quick sip, the liquid warming his throat and then suffusing his chest. For just a second or two he closed his eyes to savour the brief sensation of comfort.

"I notice Ruth isn't here yet," Ros said, dropping into the chair across the desk from him.

He contemplated several different replies – sarcasm being one of them – but discarded all in favour of the truth. "No, she isn't. She's at home."

"Your home?" Ros lifted one eyebrow and the corner of her mouth, but he was in no mood for banter.

"Her own," he said.

"So she's done with hospital."

"Yes, although Keith Deery is still there. He's unlikely to leave any time soon," and Harry stopped, dropping his eyes to his whisky glass. When Ros swore quietly but audibly, he glanced up at her. "He's suffered a complete breakdown."

"Who is Ruth seeing?" Ros' eyes were icy.

"Seeing?"

"For psychological support - bleeding heart stuff."

"She's .. resisting it. She declares she's fine and doesn't need help."

"Adam said the same thing, and look what happened to him."

Harry sighed heavily. "I know."

"Does she know it's mandatory?"

Again Harry nodded. More than anything he needed to sleep. He'd slept little overnight, worried as he'd been about Ruth, and how she'd require a friend to help guide her through her recovery from this event. He'd have liked to offer his support, but he'd not been sure she'd accept it. "I have a favour to ask of you," he said, and judging by her reaction, Ros already knew what that favour would be.

"You know that where she is concerned you're a coward," she stated bluntly, pre-empting his request.

Harry's eyes darted up to meet hers, this woman he has grown to trust, even to love - more daughter than contemporary, more friend than employee. He lifted his glass and gulped his drink, dropping his eyes when her gaze became intense, invasive. "Immediately would be fine," he said, and Ros knew what he meant; after all, she had already navigated the road upon which Ruth was about to travel.

* * *

It was a little later when Ros Myers rang Ruth's doorbell. She was left waiting for several minutes before the door was opened, revealing a weary-looking Ruth, who turned from the door, and headed back down the hallway, leaving the door open for Ros to enter. She had expected a frosty welcome, but a lethargic one was probably more Ruth's style. Her own response in the long weeks of recovery following the hotel bombing had been biting sarcasm, laced with outbursts of irrational anger. She had smashed at least four coffee mugs when she'd thrown them at the wall across from her sofa, where she had set up a temporary bed. Her petulance had surprised even her.

"I'll have a coffee," she said as she limped into the small eating area, where Ruth was just about to take a seat, but headed back into the cramped kitchen to pour coffee for them both from the pot on the stove.

"Why isn't Harry here?" Ruth asked as Ros accepted her mug of coffee with a nod. She held the mug between her palms while she decided how best to answer.

"He's busy saving the world."

"And what's the real reason?"

No flies on Ruth. Ros again waited before answering, her eyes downcast. "I think he's afraid he'll .. mess things up between the two of you," she said at last.

Ruth's immediate response was to laugh, but it was not Ruth's usual gentle laughter. This laugh was hard, with edges sharp enough to cut glass. "As if there is anything between us," she said after a time.

"You might have to put him right."

"I thought I already had."

"My mission is to take you to the psych."

"So, he sent you to do his dirty work," Ruth said, her voice edgy and angled, and rough as gravel.

"It looks like it." Both women gave their full attention to their drinks. They were not yet friends, and perhaps never will be, but they were slowly learning to work together with a measurable level of unspoken respect. "How did you sleep?" Ros added, lifting her eyes to Ruth, who evaded her gaze.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Not especially, but you need to know that nights of little or no sleep are normal for .. what you've been through." Ruth appeared to ignore her, and for a moment Ros was tempted to get up and leave. She'd rather Harry were in her place; surely he'd stand a better chance of cracking open this woman's stony shell. "Harry's orders are for me to drive you to your appointment with Felicity Ingram."

Ruth's eyes snapped back to Ros. "And then can I return to work?"

"I'm not the one who'll be making that decision. I'll take you there, and see you inside. Harry has a meeting at 1.30, and Lucas is still AWOL, so I'm needed at work."

"And I'm not." It was a statement, rather than a question.

"We all you need you back, Ruth, but first you have some hoop-jumping to do."

In the end Ruth complied, making no fuss at all, as though she was operating on automatic pilot. Had Ros letters after her name giving her the right to make such an assessment, she would have labelled Ruth depressed and shut down.

Once Ros arrived back on the Grid Harry left for his meeting. He spoke to no-one. What followed was several hours of quiet, the only interruption being Dimitri returning from a four-hour stint in the surveillance van. "Vans are not made for blokes my size," he complained to no-one in particular as he pulled out his chair and sat at his desk.

Ros chose to ignore him. By comparison, his five hours sitting in a cramped space with two other men, neither of whom were exactly loquacious, was a doddle compared with her five months spent in painful recovery after the hotel went sky high. He should be so lucky.

* * *

By the time Harry returned to the Grid it was almost 4 o'clock, and only Ros, Tariq and Dimitri were still working at their desks. He slid into his chair, and woke his monitor. Most prominent among his incoming emails was one from Felicity Ingram, the private psychologist on contract to Mi5. Harry read it and then, after fuming silently for a moment, he left his office to confront Ros. "I thought I told you to take Ruth to Felicity Ingram's office."

Ros lifted her face to him, her expression one of quiet calm. "I did. I even walked her inside."

"Did you stay with her?"

"Of course not. I'm not a baby sitter, and Ruth doesn't require mollycoddling."

"Felicity Ingram has sent an email informing me that Ruth didn't make it to her appointment."

"Shit!" Ros got to her feet clumsily, and in her haste her walking stick clattered to the floor. Harry reached down to pick it up, but she batted his hand away, and with one hand holding the edge of her desk, she bent to pick it up. "I'm not the invalid here," she snapped.

Harry turned from her, but before he left he leaned closer, chiefly to keep his words from being heard by Tariq or Dimitri, or especially the people in admin, any of whom were capable of spreading the news of Ruth's disappearance in less time than it takes to boil a kettle. "You stay here, just in case she tries turning up here."

"Where are you off to?"

"To find her."

Harry was about to leave when Ros added, "Have you tried ringing her?"

So as he hurried to his office, Harry took his mobile phone from his jacket pocket and pressed Ruth's number. He waited until the call was diverted to voice mail, and then he turned and shook his head at Ros. His first port of call would have to be her flat.

* * *

He tried everywhere he expected her to be, and a few – like the tube station – where she probably wouldn't be, not if she was aiming to remain out of sight. He'd even broken into her flat, calling out her name as he hurried from room to room. Two used coffee cups sat on the kitchen table, no doubt still there from when Ros had visited earlier. There was no sign of her in the flat, and her coat was missing from the hook just inside the front door.

When his phone rang he was sitting in his car, having run out of ideas. "Ruth?" he answered hopefully.

"No, it's me," Ros said. "Any sign yet?"

"None. I rang Felicity Ingram, and her last consultation ends at 8.30 this evening. She's prepared to see Ruth after that, but I have to find her first, and she's not answering her phone, and even worse, it's just begun to rain."

"Have you tried the embankment?"

"No. Why would she be there?"

"Isn't that where the two of you .. you know .. hang out?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Why would she want to be somewhere she and I .. spend time?"

"Why not? Isn't that where you go when you need to solve all the problems of the known universe?"

For the first time that day Harry found himself smiling. He was not so much smiling at Ros' words as he was to the memory of him and Ruth sitting together, a safe distance between them, while they talked, and just as often sat together saying nothing at all. It had always been where they went to just _be_. "Thanks," he said quickly, "it can't hurt to check it out. How's everything your end?"

"Oh, just hunky dory, but don't you worry about the Grid. We need Ruth back here, firing on all cylinders."

Harry thanked her again before he ended the call. Somehow he knew it would be some time before Ruth would be operating on all cylinders.

* * *

Harry parked his car in the Thames house basement car park, and shrugged on his coat, stuffing his gloves into one pocket. The rain had stopped, but the roads and pathways were wet, and there was an early evening chill in the air. His first thought as he crossed the road and headed towards the embankment was that at least Ruth had her coat with her. He hoped she had also thought to take her gloves. It might be early autumn, but the air at that time of day could still be like a slap against cold, bare skin. As he walked towards the river his eyes scanned left, right and ahead. There was no sign of her on the bridge, and as he turned onto the embankment beside the river, there were many people walking and even some brave souls sitting, but Ruth was not among them.

Harry was beginning to despair when he saw her. He stopped walking, and remained still, silently observing her. She stood against the parapet, overlooking the river. She was so still, a statue in a black coat, her hands stuffed into her coat pockets, her gaze staring out to where the surface of the river glistened in the light of early evening. Her hair was bedraggled, as though she had been standing in the rain. As he watched her she began to lean over the wall. He knew that were she considering throwing herself into the river, she was not in the best spot to be doing that.

For several minutes more he watched her unseen, and then she placed her hands on the wall. He was about to move towards her when he noticed her shoulders shaking. The noise of traffic and the crowd of people all around them drowned out all ambient sounds, and were he to call out, in all probability she'd not hear him. There she stood, the woman he had loved for more years than he could remember, and she was clearly upset, with him having little idea what he should do to help ease her distress. His own method almost always involved removing himself from the company of others, accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol, neither of which was terribly healthy, and nor had it provided anything more than temporary reprieve.

His heart ached for her, and he could no longer just stand by and watch, so he slowly moved closer, and when he was a few metres from her he could hear her sobbing, while her shoulders tightened as she attempted to staunch her crying, one hand covering her mouth.

He could remain silent no longer. "Ruth," was all he said, and at the sound of his voice she turned.

He hadn't really considered what her reaction would be to him finding her. He had hoped she'd be happy to see him. Happy was hardly the right word; horrified came closer.

She began shaking her head, slowly at first, and then more vigorously. "I can't, Harry," was all she said before she darted off, and was soon lost among the crowd of people moving along the embankment.

Harry knew that it was best he not attempt to follow her, so he remained where he stood. He sighed heavily, lifting his shoulders and then allowing them to slump. What now?


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Thanks for the enthusiastic response to Chapter 1, and the kind reviews. I rather enjoy writing Ros, and she features throughout this story as Harry's 2IC. _**

* * *

2\. Yesterday I killed a man.

Harry quickly turned and headed back to Thames House, where he knew Ros would be working long into the night. She had recently confided to him that her flat, once her sanctuary, now felt like her prison. She had spent long months flat-bound while recovering from the injuries she sustained from being caught inside the hotel when the bomb was planted by Nightingale. Once he walked through the pods and onto the Grid floor he was no longer sure he had made the right decision. He headed directly into his office to ring Felicity Ingram. When he ended the call, he noticed Ros standing just inside the doorway.

"I take it you didn't find her," Ros began, limping towards a chair.

"I found her on the embankment," he said, his eyes not quite meeting hers as he attempted to mask his distress and embarrassment. "She .. didn't want to see me."

"Ruth can take care of herself," Ros stated bluntly, leaning back in her chair, and stretching her legs, "and I suspect she needs time to regroup." She brushed some imaginary lint from the lapel of her jacket. "You need to go home, Harry."

"That's .. not an option."

"If Ruth was to do anything drastic or stupid she would have done it by now. I'll get Tariq to do a CCTV search, starting at the Thames embankment. He'll keep an electronic eye on her, and he'll keep me posted. There's nothing else we can do. When she's ready to be found, she'll turn up."

Harry looked away as he contemplated her words. He knew she was right, although they were talking about Ruth, and not Lucas. "She's not familiar with .. these kinds of situations."

"She spent almost three years wandering around Europe on her own. I'd say she's very familiar with this kind of situation."

Harry sighed, and then passed his palm down his face. "She tried to warn me about Lucas. He's still .. out there somewhere."

"I know. Still .. he's unlikely to harm anyone other than himself."

Harry was not so sure, but chose to remain silent on the matter.

* * *

Harry was relieved to be home. To wash away the day he showered, and then dressed in casual slacks, a warm, bulky jumper, and his slippers. Dinner was a takeaway Indian meal he'd picked up on his way home, which he ate while sitting in his favourite comfy chair in front of the gas fire in the living room. After he finished eating, and then cleaned up, he poured himself a generous measure of quality single malt whisky. He needed to sleep, but he was not sure he'd be able to sleep, knowing that Ruth was out there somewhere, all alone, frightened, confused, and troubled. He experienced a moment of guilt when he suspected that this situation could have been avoided had he smuggled her onto the Grid and allowed her to get back to work. No, he thought, that would not have served her best interests. He should know.

When his phone rang he sat up suddenly, realising that he was just about to nod off. He checked the screen to see Ros's name, and answered with her name. "Harry? I'm sorry to be ringing you so late, but -" and then he heard the sound of his doorbell ringing, not once or even twice, but three times.

"Can you hang on, Ros? There's someone at the door," and he hurried from the room and down the hallway to his front door. He opened the door, his phone still in one hand, and when he saw her, he couldn't speak. He just stood there, staring at her.

"May I come in?" she asked shyly, her eyes sliding away from him. Gone was the distressed woman of several hours earlier.

"Of course," Harry answered, stepping aside to allow her inside. "I'll take your coat," he said, and when she had removed it and handed it to him to hang on a hook, he pointed towards the door to the living room. As he turned to close the front door, he remembered his phone call. "Ros?" he said, standing in his hallway, his phone to his ear.

"I heard," she answered. "I was ringing to say that Tariq has mapped Ruth's movements on CCTV, and suspects she is heading to your house. How does she seem to you?"

"It's hard to tell. She seems calmer."

"Go and join her then, and don't be in a hurry to get here in the morning. The Grid can run without you, you know," and she promptly hung up.

Harry stared at the phone. Understanding and compassionate Ros was someone he barely recognised, another side of the Ros who had emerged from the debris of the hotel. He then followed Ruth into the living room, where she was standing with her back to the fire, her hands winding one around the other in a wringing motion, anxiety visible in her eyes. "Ruth?" he asked, stopping so that there was still some distance between them.

"I'm sorry for .. earlier," she said quietly, her eyes darting towards the window, and then back to him.

He sighed heavily. "It's fine. I understand."

"I had to .. think .. and I can't do that when someone else is .."

"I do understand, Ruth. Would you like something to eat?"

"I would, but first I'd quite like ..."

"What? Just tell me." Harry harboured inside him a churning anxiety. Ruth under his roof was something new for them, and he hoped he had the necessary skills and sensitivity to meet her needs.

Ruth lifted her eyes, which were large, darkened by the low level of light in the room, and suddenly Harry felt naked under her gaze. "My flat doesn't have a bathtub, and .." Her voice trailed off, her embarrassment clear.

"I'll run you a bath, then, shall I?"

"And I'll need some clean clothes .. to change into. Mine are damp. I bought underwear on the way here, but I'll need .. something to wear while my clothes dry."

"Consider it done." Harry was casting his mind to his own spare clothing, and whether there was anything which might fit Ruth. He had a few things – t shirts, track pants - which he had `grown out of'. He pointed towards the door, suddenly uncomfortable with the situation – Ruth in his house, asking to use his bathtub, needing to wear his clothes – and he was searching for a suitable distraction. "I'll go upstairs and run you a bath, and I'm sure I have something which will fit you." Ruth nodded, and even allowed a small smile to soften her features. "So .. stay there and keep warm until the bath is ready," and he quickly left the room.

Upstairs, Harry busied himself, firstly in the bathroom, where he rifled through the cabinet beneath the sink for some appropriate bath oil, or something which smelled even vaguely feminine. He found a bath oil claiming to be `infused with essences of green tea, ginger and citrus', which his daughter had left behind on one of her very rare visits. He hoped Ruth would like it.

While the bath was running he rummaged through the chest of drawers in his bedroom, and found a t shirt, a jumper, and even a pair of warm track pants, all much too small for him. He was sure he'd bought the track pants around the time Ruth had begun working for him – all of seven years ago. He knew he should throw out clothes which no longer fitted him, but he'd harboured plans to get fit, lose weight, and a number of other impossible dreams to which aging men cling. Lastly, he grabbed a pair of thick socks from his socks and underwear drawer.

By the time he returned to the bathroom, the bath was three-quarters full, and the whole of the upstairs smelled like a Chinese bath house. He took a spare dressing gown from the back of the door, and draped it over the chair next to the bath, along with two clean towels from the airing cupboard. He had already taken the spare clothes to the guest room, and while Ruth was in the bath he would make up the spare bed for her, and then prepare her something to eat. Harry had become energised. He had missed having someone in his life to care for.

* * *

Harry had just turned off the burner, and was about to place the sausages, eggs, bacon, tomato and mushrooms on a plate for Ruth when she quietly entered the kitchen.

"You must think I haven't eaten for a week," she said, the familiar lilt of teasing in her voice.

He glanced up at her and was momentarily shocked by how good she looked, even though she'd had to roll up the sleeves of his jumper, and possibly the legs of the track pants. "Those clothes look much better on you," he commented, pointing to the chair where he wanted her to sit.

"I feel very warm," she replied, "and I haven't felt warm all day, not since ..."

And there it was, a reference to the horrors she and Keith Deery had endured the previous evening. He'd have to encourage her to talk about it some time soon. "Eat," he said, placing a knife and fork beside her plate. "I imagine you haven't eaten at all today."

"Not since this morning at the hospital. It seems .. so long ago." She began to tuck into her meal. "You're not eating?" she asked, glancing up at him, where he was rinsing the frying pan and tidying the sink.

"I already ate. When you've finished I'll make us a pot of tea."

Ruth nodded and smiled. The old Ruth – the Ruth he loved – appeared to have already returned, but he knew from experience that her return may be only temporary.

When she had finished eating Harry placed the teapot, mugs, milk and sugar on the table between them, and then while Ruth was preparing her tea, he rinsed her dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. "I'm sorry to have disrupted your evening," she said, once he was sitting down, and had added milk and sugar to his tea.

"I'm relieved you're here. I was .. very worried about you." He silently kicked himself for declaring his feelings for her in such a parental way, but he _was_ her boss, and his concern for her well-being was part of his remit.

"The bath was lovely," she said, stirring her tea, which he was sure she'd already done. "I could have stayed there for another hour."

"Why didn't you?"

"That wouldn't be right. After all, you were cooking my dinner, and I couldn't impose on you for too long."

"Impose all you like, Ruth. I've made up the bed in the spare room. I'd like you to stay here tonight." Again, he wished he had worded that sentence differently. Mentally he held his breath, waiting for a sharp response from her.

"It's all right, Harry," she said, looking up at him with a small smile. "I'm happy .. to stay."

"Your clothes will take a while to dry." Suddenly he decided they had to talk about something other than their domestic situation. "Ruth," he began carefully, "how would it be were I to ring Felicity Ingram, asking her to find time in her schedule to see you? I've left Ros in charge of the Grid, so I can drive you there -"

"I suppose I can't avoid seeing her, not if I want to return to work."

"No. You can't. If I ring her first thing, I'll see if she has a spare hour or two."

Ruth nodded and then cast her eyes downwards, and what followed was a long period of silence. He noticed Ruth's slight discomfort as she moved in her chair. "I need to tell you a few things," she said at last, and Harry sighed with relief. He'd hate it were they to retire to bed not having spoken about the events of the previous thirty hours. He looked up to see her watching him. "When you found me on the embankment," she began, "I was a bit of a mess." He nodded. "I'd just realised something, and it made me feel very sad .. and afraid."

"Afraid?"

"Yes. I'd been feeling very afraid, ever since I woke this morning." She fiddled with her mug, and realising her mug was empty, Harry lifted the pot in a question, and she nodded. As he was pouring her second mug of tea, she continued. "Do you remember when you asked me to marry you .. after Andrew Lawrence's memorial service?"

Harry's eyes darted up to see her own were soft and gentle. She was not taunting him; she was not aiming to hurt him. "How can I forget?" he said quietly.

"Do you remember the excuse I gave you when I turned you down?"

"Excuse?"

"Yes. Excuse. I said that we had each done terrible things."

"I would have thought the performing of terrible acts comes with the job."

"I can see now how much that is true, but at the time I was thinking more of what _you_ had done, rather than me. I was thinking of ..."

"Him ..."

"Yes." She breathed the word.

"You must know that at the time I had very little choice."

"Yes. I know that now. What I was angry about while I was on the embankment was .." She dropped her eyes, and Harry knew her well enough to recognise in her body language the shadow of shame.

"Tell me," he coaxed.

"If anyone is responsible for George's death it's me."

"Mani was the only one responsible. He was the one who planned it, set it up, and then gave the kill order." He stopped, recognising how harsh his words must have sounded to her.

"I know, but I dragged him into my own world, and he died, and now Nico is an orphan. Today, by the embankment, _that_ was what I realised, and _that_ was why I couldn't talk to you." Harry noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes. He could do nothing but listen. "Yesterday I killed a man -"

"Not just any man. He was a paid killer. He was not a good man, and had you not killed him, he would have killed you."

"Logically I know that, but Harry .. can't you see?"

"Ruth -"

She began shaking her head, and then tears were rolling down her cheeks. Her fingers were fiddling with the spoon she'd used to stir her tea, and her eyes were cast downwards. Harry was out of his depth. He needed to rely on his instincts. When she looked up at him her eyes were stormy and troubled. "I'm bad luck. I can't be close to anyone. Were you and I to ever .. get together .."

"You think you'd cause my death? How?"

"I've no idea. I'd be sure to get in some kind of jam from which you'd rescue me, and I'd survive while you died a horrible death."

He sat back then. How was it the same mind which made such complex connections at work, solving problems beyond most mortal beings, could also come up with such .. convoluted _bollocks_? He had nothing to say to that.

"See?" she said, her eyes dark, anger having replaced distress. "You can't argue with that. We can't be together that way, Harry. I won't allow it."

"I don't agree, Ruth. I'd rather have a week with you, and then die a horrible death than not ever .. try."

"I can't allow that."

Suddenly he felt very, very weary. "I think we should sleep on it," he said. _And hopefully you'll feel differently in the morning_ remained unsaid.

Without warning Ruth got to her feet, taking her mug and the teapot to the sink, where she stood, staring through the window at the darkness outside. Harry also rose, and from behind her he placed his own mug next to hers on the sink. He longed to slide his arms around her, but he knew she'd not welcome physical contact with him. She'd made it perfectly clear that there was no longer any hope for them. His body felt leaden, when only an hour or so earlier he had experienced a lightness in his being, the likes of which he'd not felt since they had been to dinner together, before Ruth had left to go into exile.

Again without warning, Ruth turned, and moved a little closer to him, leaning into him, and resting her head on his shoulder, her palms against his chest. Under almost any other circumstances he'd have welcomed her gesture, but her proximity, her evident trust in him left him confused, upset and more than a little angry. He kept his hands by his sides, and eventually Ruth pulled away, lifting her eyes to his. "Why did you do that," he said, "after everything you've just said?"

"Just because we can't be together, it doesn't mean I don't love you ..."

Harry turned away from her, attempting to hide his anger and frustration. He knew she was still a mess, he knew she was traumatised, but she'd just pushed him to his emotional limit.

".. unless you no longer love me," he heard her say quietly.

"You know that's not true," he replied after a long silence. After a long moment he turned back to her to see deep sadness in her eyes. "None of this is about me, and whether I love you or not." He sighed heavily, and stepped as close to her as he dared. He longed to touch her, but he no longer trusted himself. "I need to sleep, Ruth. Today has been .. emotional .. for us both, but mostly for you." She nodded, her eyes cast down. "If you go up now, and use the bathroom, I'll tidy up .. down here."

Ruth left with a quiet `goodnight', and once she was gone Harry flopped on to a chair, emotionally exhausted.


	3. Chapter 3

3\. I need you to be there for her.

Harry woke early, showered, shaved and dressed, and then headed downstairs to make coffee and something to eat. He kept busy, allowing himself little time for thinking. At 7 o'clock he rang Felicity Ingram, and after sharing with her a brief summary of his experience with Ruth the night before, she agreed to an emergency appointment for Ruth.

"Perhaps you might like to be present, Harry," Felicity suggested. "It sounds like you and Ruth are close."

"We were once. I've promised to drive her there. She might need .. someone with her once she's seen you."

"What exactly is the nature of your relationship with Ruth?"

"Aside from her being my senior intelligence analyst?"

"Yes. Aside from that."

Harry sighed audibly. How to describe the confused and bewildering merry-go-round which had been his long history with Ruth? "You'd best ask her," he replied at last, "because I have no idea."

"Judging by your answer you've known one another for some time, and her most recent experience is not the first traumatic event in her life."

"That's right. She seems to be having to face them all at once, and she's overwhelmed and confused .. as am I."

"I'll see you at one-thirty."

* * *

"I thought I told you to take your time getting here this morning," Ros chastised him as he stepped through the pods.

"I'm needed back home in a few hours, so I thought I'd work the morning." Ros followed him into his office, and as usual he pointed to the chair across his desk from his own. "Do you sleep here?" he asked.

"I may as well. Tariq and me, we're here most of the time, so much so that I'm growing fond of the lad. How's Ruth?"

Harry sat back in his chair and watched Ros for a moment. He could see that the added responsibility of his time away from the Grid on top of Lucas's absence has been good for her. Much like him, she thrived on work. It appeared to give her energy and a much needed purpose. "She's .. not quite herself. The psych is seeing her at 1.30 today, and I think I should be there."

"What does she think about that?"

"I don't know. She was still in bed when I left. I wrote her a long note explaining everything. I suggested she ring me once she's read it," and he checked his watch, "which could be any moment now. But first, I need to brief you about this meeting with the other section heads. Firstly, and most importantly, don't let Greg Whitford walk all over you."

Ros sat up straight, a shocked expression on her face. "You're warning me about Greg Whitford? You need to warn _him_. I eat weasels like him for breakfast."

Harry smiled, his first genuine smile of the day. "Then let's get to work."

An hour later Harry was about to dismiss Ros so that she could leave for the meeting, when he heard the sound of his text message alert. "Excuse me for a moment," he said, and he checked his message. As expected, it was from Ruth, and as he'd not expected, it was a plea for him to come home. He made a face by twisting his lips, and then looked across to Ros, an apology already on his face. "I have to get home. It's probably nothing, but .."

"Just go. I'll manage here."

So he stood and gathered his coat and phone, and quickly left.

* * *

He had little idea what he'd find at home. As he'd left the Grid he'd put through a quick call to Ruth, just in case she was in some kind of serious trouble. "I don't think I can go through with this," she had said, a note of panic in her voice.

"I'll be home as soon as I can," he'd replied, "and you can tell me about it then."

He'd hurried home, driving above the speed limit for most of the way. Once inside his house he called out to her, and she answered from the living room. He hung his coat and headed through the living room door to see Ruth on the sofa. She was lying in a foetal ball, her arms wrapped around a cushion like it was a long lost lover .. or a child. Harry stood just inside the doorway and watched her. It was clear she'd been crying, and her body language was not encouraging, but apart from that, all was normal. In that moment, there was a part of him which wanted to turn right around and return to the Grid, while another part of him longed to gather Ruth in his arms and hold her close to ensure that nothing bad could happen to her ever again. He entered the room, and settled himself on the end of the sofa near her feet. From there he could watch her face.

"Talk to me, Ruth," he said. "Tell me what's happening."

Suddenly she sat up, allowing the cushion to fall to the carpet. She reached out with both arms, and said, "please hold me."

Despite his resolve to keep his distance from her – for both their sakes - he shuffled closer, gathering her to him, and and then he leaned back with her in his arms, and her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Were he a man without morals he would have begun kissing her then, with a view to taking her upstairs. As it was, he considered both Ruth and he to be in need of comfort, and how better to find comfort than with each other?

After a number of minutes had passed during which he concocted all manner of fanciful scenarios in which he and Ruth bared their souls to one another, she slowly and carefully extricated herself from his arms and sat up. She turned to look at him. "I need to ask you something. It's personal."

"Ask away, so long as I have the right to not answer."

"Of course." Ruth looked down, her eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and immediately he knew she was uncomfortable with what she was about to ask. "I've been wondering," she began, "why it is you never ask me about George?"

He hadn't been expecting that. Her words hit him like a well aimed punch, and for a moment he had no idea how best to answer. He could answer honestly, or he could provide a tactful answer. He chose diplomacy over honesty. "George is none of my business, Ruth. Of course I'm curious, and I have a right to such curiosity, but he was your husband, and so nothing to do with me."

Ruth took so long to answer that he frowned and looked across at her to see her staring at him, the slight flare of anger in her eyes. "That's all very nice and understanding, but I don't believe a word of it ... and he wasn't my husband."

This time it was he who took a long time to formulate his response. He should have known that he couldn't fool Ruth. She knew him like no-one else alive knew him, and at times such as this that fact was disconcerting. "I don't think you'd want to hear the real reasons I don't ask about him, but I think you could probably guess."

She nodded slowly. "Were the situation to be reversed, with you having found a partner, I'd not want to know the details."

"So you've answered your own question. Why did you feel the need to ask me?" Harry was experiencing a rising level of irritation, and it had nothing to do with Ruth's changeability since killing Rigaut. There was something else going on with her, and it felt to him like she was trying hard to get under his skin, to upset him, and what better way than to mention George? "I know you loved him, Ruth, and that is not something on which I wish to dwell."

"I never said I loved George. You asked me .. back then, on the day he died, but I didn't give you an answer."

"I presumed your silence meant that you did. You lived with him, you grieved his death, you blamed me for his death." Harry could feel the roiling in his gut as his emotions began a war within him, a sign that he was about to lose control. He sat back, in part to put distance between them. "Why ask me about my interest or otherwise in George?" This time it was Ruth who looked away, staring across the room at the blank TV screen. "Was it to hurt me?"

Ruth glanced back at him, and then took her eyes from his, hesitating before she spoke. "Yes -" she began, but was prevented from saying any more by the shrill sound of the ringtone of Harry's phone.

Relieved to have a reason to remove himself from Ruth's presence, Harry got up and left the room to take his call. It was Felicity Ingram. "I've had a cancellation, so can you have Ruth here within three-quarters of an hour?"

Can he? "We'll be there," he replied, and then quickly hung up. By the time he returned to the living room, he had managed to bring his shaking body under control.

* * *

The drive to the offices of Felicity Ingram was a quiet one. An unspoken agreement had been made that they would not continue the conversation they had begun just prior to Harry's phone call. For the time being George, and anything to do with George, was no longer open to discussion. For a change, Ruth's reticence left Harry with a sense of temporary relief. Ruth's acknowledgement that she had intended to hurt him had hit him like a physical blow. He had navigated the period post trauma enough times to be aware that harsh words spoken under duress often carried truths which, at other times would be carefully held back.

Ruth spent almost two hours alone with Felicity Ingram, while Harry sat in the waiting room. It was a pleasant room, clearly designed to place people at ease. The prints on the walls were of beach scenes, waterfalls and lakes, which, rather than calming him, left him wishing he'd had the forethought to have smuggled in a hip flask. After staring around him, trying to forget the brief conversation he'd had with Ruth at his house, he took out his phone and made some calls. He spoke with Tariq, who in Ruth's absence was vetting analysis from GCHQ, and then to Ros, who after having spent two hours in a meeting with four men – three of whom she only barely tolerated, and one of whom she abhorred - was not in the best of moods. By the time he heard voices in the corridor, he was relieved to have an excuse to end his call to her.

When Ruth appeared in the doorway she looked lighter, happier and relaxed. "Felicity wishes to speak with you alone," she said, carefully moving through the doorway and into the waiting room.

He got up and slowly approached her, still smarting from their difficult interaction earlier. He'd rather go straight home, so that he and Ruth could settle their differences. "Do I have to?" he asked.

"As my closest friend .." Ruth hesitated, looking into his eyes with an expression of pleading. "She believes you need to be .. kept in the loop."

If he was being honest, he'd rather not be `in the loop' on Felicity's terms. He had seen psychologists in his own chequered past, and none had helped him, but perhaps that may have had something to do with his resistance to seeking outside help. He sighed, something he'd been doing a lot in the previous twenty-four hours. "Very well."

One of the difficulties Harry had from the outset was that Felicity was around twenty years younger than him, and her personality could best be described as positive and optimistic, but without her being bouncy. Harry couldn't abide bouncy people. In his experience, life was a serious business, and being too happy, too bouncy had no place in his universe. He considered bouncy and overly optimistic people to be disingenuous, and living in a reality of their own making, thus rendering them unstable. Harbouring optimism had never worked well for him, his continuing non-relationship with Ruth being a case in point. He sat in the chair she indicated, not at her desk, but across from her, with a low table between them. He noticed the box of tissues on the table, and resisted the urge to comment upon it.

Felicity began by informing him that she couldn't share with him anything which had transpired between she and Ruth, but he already knew that. "But I can let you know my recommendations for her."

"Which are?"

"I believe that Ruth needs to work, and so I am recommending that she return to light duties from tomorrow."

" _Light_ duties? Ruth and I work for the intelligence service. None of our duties are light!"

Felicity smiled widely, but Harry refused to reflect a smile back to her. "Bad choice of words. She needs to be restricted to desk duties only, which I would have thought to be the limit of her remit."

Harry felt chastised. How to explain to this woman how difficult it would be to keep Ruth chained to her desk? "That goes without saying," he said.

"Added to that," Felicity added, looking warily at Harry, "I need you to be there for her."

 _Be t_ _here for her_? What the fuck did that mean? He believed that he had always been there for her .. well, most of the time .. perhaps some of the time. "Ruth is likely to be very … resistant to my hovering. She's quite independent."

"I can see that. I'll leave that to you. She needs to know that there is someone in the world who will still care for her, even when she behaves badly, and she _will_ behave badly, and erratically. She may be difficult, even verbally cutting or aggressive. Her ordeal has left her insecure, not knowing who or what she can trust, so she'll push you as a way of testing you. It may take years for her to fully recover. Some people never totally recover from the kinds of events which Ruth has had to witness and endure." To Harry, that sounded much like Ruth as she had been since George's death. "She will also need time alone, and she's looking forward to going home to her own place."

Harry nodded. Ruth had already let him know she was ready to return home that afternoon, which was probably best. "I'll see what I can do."

"Please do," Felicity replied, "and she has agreed to see me twice a week for the next three months."

"Three months!" Harry had only ever sought professional help at the insistence of his wife, and then when he hadn't returned after the first session he'd lied to her about continuing treatment. He and Ros were on the same page when it came to talking therapies. He had always found more profound wisdom to be found in the contents of a whisky bottle.

* * *

Once they left Felicity's office, while sitting in his car in the car park behind the building, Harry looked across at Ruth. "What now?" he asked.

"I need to go home, Harry. To my place."

He was at once both relieved and distressed. Only Ruth could lead him through such a maelstrom of emotions. He held in his natural responses, nodded to her, and then started the car. During the drive to Ruth's flat, Harry shut himself off. He didn't want to speak to her, or to hear what she had to say. He pretended to be concentrating totally on driving. When, once or twice he chanced a glance at Ruth, she appeared to be focusing on anything at all which was outside the confines of the car.

Once he'd parked outside Ruth's flat, Harry followed her inside. When she offered him a cup of coffee he declined, saying, "I need to get back to the Grid. We're short staffed today."

She nodded in apparent understanding. "There's just one thing," she said, as he turned to leave. "Today, just before you received that phone call, when I said I wanted to hurt you, I was out of order. I shouldn't have done that. It wasn't fair."

Harry stood still, waiting for her to continue. What if this was another set-up? What if she was again planning to hurt him, to plunge the knife into those places where he was most vulnerable? There were parts of him, most of them relating to her, where the slightest touch, the wrong word spoken, could tear at him as if his flesh had been caught in the jaws of a hungry wolf. He said nothing. He didn't dare.

"I did want to hurt you, and I don't know why. I talked about that with Felicity, and I .. think .. that I wanted to punish you for loving me. No man has ever loved me with such .. enduring loyalty as you .. and I ..." She turned from him then, fiddling with the kettle, but neither filling it or turning it on.

"I'll expect you in tomorrow morning," Harry said, before turning from her and quickly leaving the room.

It had been so much easier for him while Ruth was in exile; he could work without being buffeted by her fluctuating moods towards him. Her saying yes one minute, closely followed by, `Harry, we can't,' had torn at his insides, so that he never knew where he stood with her. By the time he reached his car he had made a decision.


	4. Chapter 4

4\. Do I have to spell it out?

While there was a part of Harry which was relieved to have Ruth working on the Grid, her quick and perceptive mind seemingly unaffected by her ordeal, and her enthusiasm for her job reborn, it was also difficult for him. After driving her home after her session with the psychologist, he had made a life-changing decision. He had decided to wean himself off loving Ruth. Loving her, and being loved in return by her in a way which was changeable, and at times not terribly loving was too painful … a roller coaster ride which was at once both as heartbreaking as it was exhilarating. He needed her loyalty, her steadfast regard for him, and he needed to know when he woke up each morning that her love for him would not have changed.

It was not that he was planning to find love with someone else. He didn't want anyone else. For reasons he still couldn't fully grasp, it was only Ruth he wanted. The problem as he saw it was that she was rather bad for him, and he was no longer prepared to be buffeted by the waxing and waning of her moods. He was prepared to support her, while at the same time easing himself out of the habit of loving her. He had little idea whether what he planned was even possible, but for his own continuing well-being he had to at least try.

His quest began when he decided to treat her like any other member of his team. She would receive no special treatment from him. He would not seek her out, or ask her to join him on the roof for a private chat. He planned to avoid being alone with her, just as he would discipline himself to not watch her from his office. How he could be her support person during her recovery while also avoiding being close to her was a question for which he still hadn't found an answer. He planned to make it up as he went along, to very gradually create emotional distance between them.

One condition of Ruth returning to work had been that she was not to work outside the hours of 8 am to 5 pm. In those first few days when she'd returned to work she had tried to stretch her day to 6 pm, but Harry had had to be strict with her. "This is me supporting your recovery to full health, Ruth," he had said part way through the first week, for which he had received a moody, dark-eyed glare from her. Such scratchy, awkward encounters had made it easier for him to create a natural distance between them.

Over the weeks following Ruth's involvement in the death of the French assassin, Harry developed the habit of remaining at work until all members of his team had left for the day. Most nights he didn't leave until after 10. On arriving home he prepared himself a light meal, and then fell into bed drained and exhausted. It was neither ideal, nor was it healthy, but it gave him little time for mulling over his difficult history with Ruth, and he was usually asleep within minutes of his head hitting the pillow. He had no control, however, over his dreaming life. Night after night his dreams were of Ruth becoming entangled in every kind of trouble imaginable – being injured in an accident, being kidnapped, becoming lost in a heavy fog – and he being the one called on to rescue her. By the time he woke in the morning he was fatigued from having to look for Ruth and then bring her home. He didn't think too hard about the dreams, and with the all-consuming nature of his working day he was able to push thoughts of them to the distant recesses of his mind.

"You look rough," Ros had commented one morning when, just prior to the team meeting, they were the only two people in the meeting room.

"I'm not sleeping terribly well."

"I wonder why," Ros had mused with a twist of her lips.

Harry had given her one of his piercing looks, which he should have known would not work on Ros, who had muttered under her breath something which had sounded a lot like `Jesus wept.' He had ignored her and changed the subject.

* * *

Late in the day at the end of the third week after Ruth had shot Rigaut dead, and Keith Deery had become lost inside himself, Harry called Ros into his office. "Any news of Lucas?" Harry began, once Ros slid the door closed behind her, and turned to face him. Ros still moved slowly and carefully, but of late he was noticing signs in her of improved flexibility. Mostly she walked without the aid of her walking stick, but she kept it with her for negotiating steps and stairs. Since it was late in the day they both sat on the sofa, and he had poured them each a whiskey. He turned his body slightly so that he faced her.

"Nothing which makes any sense. He's found some old girlfriend from years ago, and that's all he ever talks about .. other than bitching about you, but that's a whole other story entirely. My advice would be to let him go."

"You mean decommission him?"

"Yes."

"Logically I know you're right, but I'm not quite ready to do that. Part of me still feels I owe him."

"You see, what I don't understand is your loyalty to an agent who gives you nothing, and has lied to you, perhaps even betrayed you, and yet you are shutting Ruth out, when you need to be offering her some kind of .. I don't know, this isn't my area of expertise. You've hardly been friendly or supportive of her."

This was the first mention of Ruth in relation to him since that morning in the meeting room, and Harry felt a flush forming on the skin of his throat, and a knot of anger stirring restlessly in his gut, nudging him to give it expression. He believed he'd been discreet. He doubted even Ruth knew what he was up to. "I don't know what you mean."

Harry broke eye contact with Ros, but he could still feel her staring at him. Her concentrated gaze felt hot on his cheek, like a strict parent aiming to convey their disapproval. "Of course you know what I mean. I'm not stupid. I have eyes. I can see what you're doing."

Harry looked up at her, maintaining a neutral expression. "So, Rosalind, what is it I'm doing?" His voice was soft with concealed menace.

"You are aware that denial is not a river in Egypt, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't give me that crap, Harry." Harry glared at her, hoping that for once in her life, Ros would be intimidated. "Do I have to spell it out?" she said wearily.

"Yes, you do."

"Whatever you think you're doing, it's not working." Harry stared some more, hoping Ros would get the hint and be quiet. "You should know by now that intimidation doesn't work on me."

"Then perhaps you'll be so kind as to tell me what does."

"Falling masonry seems to do the trick."

Harry sat back, shame washing over him like a wave breaking on the beach. He accepted that his attempts to keep his distance from Ruth had been transparent, and Ros had seen right through his tactical manoeuvre. He carefully placed his whiskey glass on the low table beside the sofa.

"All you're achieving is making the two of you miserable." Now she'd stepped right over the line. Needing to create distance between he and Ros, Harry quickly stood, stepping away from the sofa and towards his desk. "If you're trying to give Ruth the message that you're not interested in her, then you're failing on all counts. It's clear it's a ruse, and I'd quite like to know why."

Harry suddenly whirled around, anger boiling at the back of his throat. " _That_ is none of your business," he said roughly.

"Then keep that kind of behaviour off the Grid. Talk to her. Tell her what it is you're trying to convey, because what you're doing is interfering with her performance as well as yours." While she'd been speaking Ros had risen from the sofa, and using her cane to steady her she began to move towards the door. As she reached the door she turned and looked hard at Harry. "No woman responds well to the silent treatment, Harry. All it does is build resentment, so that one dark night she'll break into your house and stab you in your sleep. It's been done before, and it can happen again" she added, as she limped through the doorway and out of sight.

Part of him longed to go after her and accuse her of blatant insubordination, but a wiser, calmer part of him knew that she'd spoken the truth. Harry wandered back to the sofa and picked up his glass. He leaned back, stretching his legs in front of him. How had his life come to this? He slowly sipped his drink, contemplating her words. So far he had believed his ruse to be working. During the previous week he and Ruth had barely exchanged more than a few short sentences, and he'd been telling himself he was beginning to fracture his habit of longing for her. He had kidded himself into believing he was falling out of love with her. He also acknowledged his own level of misery, as well as Ruth's clear wretchedness, and he wanted more than anything to get up and drive to the office of Ruth's psychologist and wait for her to finish her session with Felicity Ingram.

Along with the form approving Ruth's return to work, Felicity had sent Harry the schedule of the first month of Ruth's appointments, and he had added them to the calendar on his phone. Were he intending to `get over her' why would he have done that? He'd told himself that he needed to keep track of her movements. He put down his glass and took his phone from his jacket pocket, and opened his calendar app. Were he to hurry he could be at the psych's office before Ruth left, and then maybe, just maybe she would allow him to drive her home.

So much for training himself to fall out of love with her.

He must have been out of his mind.

* * *

When Harry parked his car in the small car park behind the building at 49 Regency Close, it was approaching 7.30 pm. At any moment Ruth would be leaving, so he locked his car and hurried to the front entrance. Inside the suite of rooms where Felicity Ingram ran her business the lights were on, but he heard nothing from the other side of the closed door where Felicity saw her clients. The reception area just inside the front door was in darkness, with only the lights along the corridor to show him the way.

He waited another few minutes, and then lightly knocked on Felicity's door. When she opened the door her face showed surprise. "Mr Pearce," she began.

"Please .. call me Harry. I'm here to pick up Ruth and take her home."

"She didn't mention it."

"It's a .. surprise. Is she here?"

Felicity looked behind her, checking the time on the clock on the wall opposite her desk. "No," she said, turning back to him. "She left around fifteen minutes ago. She usually does. There's a bus she needs to catch." Harry stepped back and sighed, thanked Felicity, and was about to leave when Felicity again spoke. "She .. mentioned to me that she's afraid your friendship with her may be over. That's why I was surprised to see you here."

"I know. It's the reason I need to speak with her .. away from work."

Once outside the building Harry took his phone from his pocket and rang Ruth's mobile. He was just turning the corner of the building on his way to his car when he heard the distinctive ring tone of Ruth's phone. She's still here? With his phone still against his ear he followed the sound of the ring tone, which appeared to be coming from the bushes beside the driveway which swept in a semicircle in front of the building. As he drew nearer, the sound became louder, until he noticed a small dark shape within the bushes. He closed his phone and dropped it back into the pocket of his jacket, a shudder of dread running up his spine to his shoulders, and then to the back of his neck. With one hand he lifted the lower branches of the shrub, so that he could push his bulk within reaching distance of the dark shape caught in the overlapping branches near the base of the plant. As he edged closer, he could see it much more clearly – a brown shoulder bag .. _Ruth's_ brown shoulder bag, the one she took to work each day.

Giving himself a moment to focus, Harry reached between the branches and grasped the bag with one hand. The zipper was open, and he looked inside to see Ruth's phone, keys, and her wallet, among other paraphernalia which he knew Ruth carried with her wherever she went. He opened the wallet to see several cards, around forty pounds in notes, and another few pounds in coins. There were two books stuffed into the bag, one a Harry Potter, and the other a thin volume of love poetry in Greek. Harry experienced a brief moment of _something_ – jealousy? pain? - when he suggested to himself that she carried the Greek love poems with her to remind her of George. He knew he harboured a deep well of pain and confusion in relation to Ruth's having lived with George; she'd slept with him, made love to him, perhaps even loved him. He stood up straight, took a deep breath to compose himself, and by the time he had reined in his emotions, he knew that he needed to act, and quickly.

He called Ros Myers, whom he was sure would still be at work, and briefly shared with her what he had found, and where. "Tariq is still at his desk," she said, her brisk words conveying how seriously she was taking Harry's request. "He can drum up the CCTV for that address."

"And if you have any ideas as to who may be behind this, Ros, then ..."

"It could be anyone, but we won't know anything until we have the CCTV images. You also need to check her phone, to see whether she received or made any calls after her session with the therapist. Did she makes arrangements to meet anyone after her therapy session?"

Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that when he first saw her phone? Because he was almost paralysed with fear for her safety. Suddenly he had another thought. "Thank you," he said, "and please keep me informed."

"Of course," Ros said curtly before ending the call.

Harry then quickly turned and headed back into the building. On entering only ten minutes earlier he had noticed two cameras in the entrance lobby, one facing down the corridor, while the other was turned towards the street. He met Felicity as she was about to leave for the evening. "I think we might have a problem," he said as she approached him, her eyebrows lifted in an unspoken question.


	5. Chapter 5

5\. He's not in a good space, Harry

Harry sat in his car, his hands on the steering wheel while he stared unseeing through the windscreen into the dimly lit car park. He knew he needed to act, and that a delay of only minutes could spell the difference between life or death for Ruth. For someone accustomed to making quick decisions, he felt frustrated by his own immobility. This was how it felt to be emotionally compromised.

At his request Felicity Ingram had acted quickly, checking the digital images from the CCTV camera at the building's front doorway. She'd run it through three times, but each time they viewed the footage Ruth had left the building as if to head across the road, and then she'd turned to her right, appearing to speak to someone out of the range of the camera lens, and then walked towards them and out of sight. At no time were they able to see the other person, either before or after Ruth appeared on camera. Harry's shoulders had slumped as he took it in.

"Whoever it is Ruth saw, two things are certain," Felicity observed. "One is that she knows them, and the other is that they have done their homework in relation to the camera positions at this address."

"And they knew when she had her appointment with you," Harry said, suddenly realising something important, something had Ruth been there with them she would have picked it up immediately. "Whoever she was meeting -"

"I don't think she was expecting to meet them," Felicity had corrected.

"Of course. Whoever it was, they had access to Ruth's schedule of sessions with you."

"You're suggesting they hacked into my system?" Felicity's dark eyebrows had lifted to meet her fringe.

"Or mine, or perhaps my phone. I have her appointments on my calendar."

Again Felicity had stared at him, lifting her eyebrows even higher, saying nothing. She hadn't needed to. The question, _just friends?_ although unspoken, hovered in the air between them.

While in Felicity's office Harry had rung Tariq, asking him to fast track the images from the cameras on the street outside the building. What Tariq told him had him losing hope. "Both cameras were out of order, Harry," Tariq said gravely. "They both appear to have been off line for at least a month. The accompanying report cited they were the regular target of vandals."

Harry grabbed his phone from inside his jacket pocket, and checked for texts or missed calls. There were none. Tariq's suggestion that had Ruth been taken, then the person who took her was most likely someone they all knew had his mind heading in one direction.

To his knowledge Ruth had no enemies, which meant that whoever had taken her was aiming to hurt him, and ultimately to control him. If Amish Mani had known about the curious bond between him and Ruth, then so did any number of people who wished him ill.

In the previous six weeks there had been only one person to have betrayed him.

This was the same person Ruth had suggested he no longer trust.

This was the same person to have been out of contact for much of the previous six weeks.

"It can only be Lucas," Harry said aloud.

Again he pressed Tariq's name in his contacts list. "Do you have a trace on Lucas's phone?" he said, with none of the formalities which normally preceded a request for assistance.

"I can do that. Is there any reason why, Harry? It could be tricky were we to drag Lucas into this. He's not exactly part of the team any more."

"I suspect he may be the one who has Ruth."

The silence with which his statement was met by Tariq said more than words ever could. Harry heard the puff of air as Tariq breathed out. "That's .. bad," Tariq said.

"There are a number of other things I need you to check," Harry added. "I need you to find out how Lucas – or whoever is behind this, because I'm only surmising it to be Lucas – managed to get access to Ruth's schedule with her psychologist. I have that schedule on the calendar of both my phone and my work computer. It appears to me that someone may have -"

"- hacked into it," Tariq finished Harry's sentence for him. There was a long silence while Tariq waited, mulling over his next request. "I'll need the password to your system, Harry."

"Very well. I'll send it to your phone."

There was another silence, and Harry realised that he was giving Tariq a lot of responsibility, but he didn't know what else to do. "Is Ros there?" he asked.

"No. She left around thirty minutes ago. She said she was tired."

The next call Harry made was to Ros.

* * *

"Have you eaten?" Ros asked him as he followed her into her apartment.

"I'm not hungry," Harry replied before he sat at her dining table, opposite where Ros had been tucking into a takeaway meal of lamb curry and naan bread. "I won't be able to eat anything until .."

Ros nodded and then sat down. "Do you have any idea who might have Ruth?"

Harry sat back in his chair and sighed. "I don't know for sure that she's been taken, but her bag, and everything in it, had been tossed into some bushes outside the building where she sees her psychologist."

"She would have done that on purpose." Ros offered Harry some naan bread, but he shook his head. She then dropped her eyes from his and contemplated her next statement. "In relation to your suspicion that it is Lucas who has her, there is something I should have told you a couple of weeks ago." She glanced up at him, and it was clear to her that she had his interest.

"Are you planning to tell me?" he said, with barely concealed sarcasm.

Ros took a sip of her wine. She'd offered him a drink the moment he'd entered her apartment, but he'd declined her offer, stating that he'd have a coffee once she'd finished eating. "He's been talking about a lot of things. Most of it is just ridiculous talk about being paid megabucks by the Chinese were he to get his hands on some genetic weapon or other." Noticing the colour draining from Harry's face, she continued. "Do we have access to anything like that?" she asked carefully.

"Of course not. We just have a dummy .. one which looks the part, but doesn't work."

"How does he know about it?"

"Our .. possession of such a weapon has been the subject of urban legend for some time. I don't deny its existence because if the word gets out that we have such a thing .. then it serves to act as a deterrent."

"There .. is something else Lucas has mentioned, which perhaps you need to know about." Ros had finished her meal, and so she pushed the food container away from her, along with her fork, and the remainder of the naan bread. She wiped her hands on a paper napkin before scrunching it between her fingers and placing it in one of the empty takeaway containers.

"I'm growing old while I wait, Ros. Some time tonight would be fine by me."

"Harry .. I can't tell you where Lucas may have taken Ruth, if in fact he has her. If I had any idea, I would have shared that with you while we were on the phone. Any information I have about Lucas's recent activities is gleaned from what he's told me. At the time he told me this I didn't believe a word of it. Now I'm not so sure."

While she'd been speaking Harry's level of anxiety had risen exponentially. He pulled at his tie to remove it, shoving it into his jacket pocket, and then opened the two top buttons of his shirt. "I'm sorry," he said, "I'm feeling hot and .."

"Anxious, yes, I know. That's how I felt when I heard my father's gaol sentence was not being reviewed."

Well, she'd got him right between the eyes with that one, hadn't she? Harry broke eye contact with her. He had no wish to discuss her father, not now, not ever. Both Ros and Harry were brought back to the present by the ring tone of Harry's phone. He checked the identity of the caller. "Tariq," he said gruffly, "any news?"

Ros watched while Harry listened to his caller. She could hear Tariq's voice through the phone's speaker, but was unable to determine what he was saying. Whatever his news, he had Harry's full attention. After the call ended Harry carefully placed his phone on the table in front of him, and then lifted one hand and rubbed the skin of his forehead, leaving white streaks on his skin white where his fingertips had pressed so hard that they'd drained the blood.

"What?" Ros asked, leaning forward.

"According to Tariq, two nights ago – at 3.42 am to be precise - there was a failed attempt to access my computer remotely. The extra firewalls Tariq had installed did their job."

"I suppose that's good news. Has he any idea who is behind this?"

Harry looked more tired than upset. "So far all he knows is that the hacking attempt originated in Beijing."

"China?"

"It appeared to be from within one of their government departments. Tariq and two of his junior technical assistants are working on isolating the department from which the attempt was made."

"Then what? We can't take on the Chinese government."

"No, but the knowledge may afford us some bargaining power."

"I have to tell you, Harry, that in his current state of mind, I don't think Lucas North is capable of carrying off something as complicated as this has become. He told me he's been talking with the Chinese, but that may have been just him fantasising. He's also mentioned getting back at you for what he sees as your betrayal of him -"

" _My_ betrayal?"

"He's not in a good space, Harry. That's how he reads it. While he could easily grab Ruth and take off with her, I don't think he's capable of all the pre-planning which appears to have gone into this."

Harry lifted his eyes to hers, and his distress was clear. "There's another thing," he said quietly.

"Which is?"

"Tariq has a tracer on all our phones. He was able to give me Lucas's current location."

"Harry, don't tell me you're planning to confront him."

"Why not? I have little else to go on." Harry stood, stretching his back. "I have to do _something_ , Ros. I can't just sit around drinking coffee."

Ros also stood, and moved surprisingly quickly from her side of the table to stand between Harry and the front door. "Harry, please don't go running after Lucas. He didn't do this. He doesn't have Ruth."

Harry stared at Ros, his expression oscillating between anger and confusion. He then very quietly asked, "how can you be so sure?"

"Because two nights ago he stayed overnight .. with me, and he didn't act like someone about to kidnap a colleague. He was weary and jaded and .. fed up with how his life has turned out."

"Lucas and .. _you_?"

"Don't get excited. He slept on the sofa. He's lost his heart to some woman called Maya. I met him after work tonight, not long after the time when Ruth would have disappeared. He was on his way to some pub or other, and he was on his own. I needed an early night tonight, so .. I came straight home. I'm almost certain he's not the one who took Ruth, if in fact she's been taken. Had he been involved in something like that, I'd know. I know him, Harry, and you know him."

Harry took a while to absorb Ros's information. "I no longer know him," he said, staring into her eyes, his voice quietly controlled. "He could still be involved."

Ros slowly shook her head. "It's not Lucas."

"Who, then?"

"Sit down, Harry. I'll make us coffee."

"Do you have anything stronger?"

* * *

By the time Harry drove into his driveway it was almost eleven o'clock. He hadn't eaten, and nor did he want to, and he'd drunk enough coffee to have him lying awake, staring at the ceiling until dawn. He was stressed, distressed, tired and wired, and he feared for Ruth's safety. He had to at least try to get some sleep, so he stood under the shower in his en suite bathroom, and closed his eyes in an attempt to empty his mind of all thought. Unfortunately his mind had other ideas, soon filling with unwanted images of Ruth – Ruth tied and gagged and left in a dark room; Ruth beaten and bloodied, left by a roadside for strangers to find her; Ruth in the hold of ship, blindfolded, being taken to some destination unknown. After his shower he dressed for bed in track pants, a t shirt, slippers and dressing gown.

He was in the kitchen making himself a mug of hot chocolate and some toast when the front doorbell rang - not once, not twice, but three times in quick succession. Could it be …? He dropped the butter knife so that it clattered onto the plate before hurrying to the front door. Hopefully it was someone with news about Ruth. Once he'd opened the door he stood there, unable to speak. All he could do was stand with his mouth open, her name on his lips, shock and paralysis having temporarily removed his power of speech.

"Can I come in?" she said. He did as she asked, standing aside while she walked past him and into his front hallway.

"I'll take your coat," he said, and he stood beside her and waited while she removed her coat and handed it to him. "You know where to find the living room," he said, turning to hang her coat on a coat hook next to his own. Harry stood for a moment and breathed in deeply before following Ruth into the living room.


	6. Chapter 6

6\. Did You Feel Like Dying, Harry?

"I was just making toast and hot cocoa, Ruth. Would you like some?"

Ruth nodded, and then followed Harry to the kitchen. "Can I do anything to help?" she asked as she stood in the doorway, watching him as he took two fresh slices of bread and slid them into the toaster. "I was afraid you'd be angry," she added quietly, and with those words Harry glanced up at her, and then just as quickly looked away.

Inside himself, where he conducted private conversations with himself, Harry was vacillating between rage and joy, so he thought it best he hold off judgement until he was in possession of more information. "Hot chocolate?" he asked, and she replied with a nod. "You'd better sit down," he added, pouring hot water onto the cocoa powder, and then adding the milk he'd warmed earlier. He was relieved to be busy, to have something to keep his hands occupied, and his eyes on something other than her. He was at once both angry with her, and almost weeping with relief to learn that she was unharmed. He couldn't decide whether he should throw their mugs of hot chocolate against the wall above her head, or to race to her side and gather her in his arms.

He did neither. Restraint was his second name.

"I'm sorry to drop in on you so late," Ruth began, sipping her drink, both elbows on the table. "I .. my phone is in my bag, and I tossed my bag away -"

"I know. I have it here," he said quietly, his eyes on the toast which he was buttering forcefully.

"Here?"

"It's in my office upstairs. I found it in the bushes next to -"

"You were _there_?"

"I arrived to offer you a ride home," he said, handing Ruth a plate on which were two slices of buttered toast, each slice cut diagonally into halves. "I found your bag, and I thought .." Harry looked up to see Ruth's eyes as wide as saucers and as dark as the night sky outside the window.

" _You_ found it? I hadn't expected that." She quickly dropped her eyes, occupying herself with rearranging the remaining slices of toast on her plate.

"What was it you expected, Ruth .. when you threw your bag in the bushes?" Harry kept his voice quiet, knowing that were he to speak loudly, or to give his anger a voice, Ruth would tell him nothing.

He watched in silence while she ate one slice of toast, and then sipped her hot chocolate. "Mmm, nice," she said, offering him a quick glance, appreciation shining in her eyes. "This certainly hits the spot." She carefully placed her mug back on the table, and then looked up at him. "I was hoping someone who didn't know me might find my bag. There was a high probability it would have been found by Felicity, or one of her colleagues, or perhaps a client."

"Or some kid who'd steal your money and cards and sell your phone to some ne'er-do-well on the street. With your keys _and_ your identity in the bag, Ruth, it was more likely your flat would have been done over."

"I wasn't planning on going home. By the time I left my session with Felicity, I'd decided that I didn't want to go back to my flat. It's .. depressing, and being there only serves to remind me of everything I've .. lost."

Harry waited, but she said nothing more, tucking into her second slice of toast. "What were you planning, Ruth? Surely you were not about to ..."

"Top myself?" she said, with her mouth half full. Harry nodded. "No. I confess that I didn't have much of a plan. I thought I might create a new identity and head to the continent, but .. in the end that wasn't what I wanted either."

"How were you planning to do that .. with no money?"

"I have other cards .. stitched into the inside pocket of my coat. I have several accounts for .. emergencies."

Harry took a moment to absorb that news. "I got Felicity to run through the CCTV from the camera above the front door," he said. "After you left the building it looked like you met someone .. although we couldn't see who."

Ruth frowned, drawing her eyebrows together. "No. I saw the bushes and thought it a good place to .. throw my bag, but there was no-one there at the time."

"It looked to us like you spoke to someone."

Again Ruth frowned, and then she said, "Oh, that. When I'm alone I'm embarrassed to say I often talk to myself. I may have said something like, _`that looks like a good place'_ … about the bushes where I threw my bag."

Harry breathed out heavily and then nodded, relieved that she hadn't been planning anything with someone else. She'd had a plan, although not much of a plan, where she'd wanted to get away from everything in her life. He could relate to that. He'd been there, but he'd had a family, responsibilities he couldn't avoid, so he'd stayed .. in body, at least, because he'd been a mess back then, and his mind had been anywhere but with his family. There were still times when the inside of his head was a mess, but he recognised the signs, and he knew how to circumvent the badness and allow the demons to drift back to the past .. where they belonged.

Harry stood and took a half full bottle of whisky from the cupboard above the cooker, pouring two fingers of the liquid into each of two glasses. He placed one in front of Ruth, holding on to the other as he sat down. "If changing your identity and running away isn't what you want, Ruth ... what is it you want?"

She turned the glass of whisky around between the fingers of both hands, shaking her head a little. "Since … since I came home from .. Cyprus, I haven't had much of a clue, really. To work, to make a difference, to stop feeling that everyone I care about is doomed to die." She gave a little laugh, a laugh which conveyed embarrassment. He watched while she took a careful sip of the whiskey. "Hmm, that's good." She took undue care as she placed the glass on the table, before again looking up at him. This time her gaze was cold and confronting. "Did you feel like dying, Harry .. after you'd killed someone? After you were responsible for the deaths of others did you feel .. so worthless that you wished you were dead?"

Like so many sharp knives, her words cut into him, to that part of him he had kept buried for decades. He nodded slowly. "Sometimes I still do. After Northern Ireland, where my best friend was killed, I spent my waking hours drinking, or sleeping with women I didn't care about, and whose names I never knew. I suppose you could say I had a death wish, but at the time I saw it as a borderline lethal dose of self hatred."

Harry noticed that his words hit home with Ruth. She dropped her eyes and began fidgeting with the whisky glass. "Some nights I go to sleep hoping I'll not wake up," she said quietly, almost a whisper, as she turned the whiskey glass one revolution in one direction, and then a revolution in the reverse direction, before she slid her fingers up and down the sides of the glass. When she grasped the glass in her hand, and began to squeeze so that her knuckles turned white, he acted immediately. He stood and moved around the table to her side, where, acting on some kind of human survival instinct, he reached down and lifted her to her feet, and then pulled her into his embrace. For a long moment he just held her, and then when he felt her body shaking with her sobs, he grasped her closer, with one arm around her waist, and his other hand cradling the back of her head. "It's all right, Ruth," he said against her hair, as her body heaved. He held her while she sobbed, then cried. It was many minutes later when she lifted one of her hands and wiped the end of her nose, so that he slowly released his hold on her. "I have tissues," he said, releasing her so that he could grab the box of tissues from the counter beside the fridge. He pulled out several, and then handed them to Ruth, who thanked him quietly, and then wiped her face and blew her nose.

Stepping away from her, he could see that she felt shamed by her breakdown, although in his own history, had he cried more and drank less, he'd have been a much less unpleasant man to be around, especially for his wife and children. He didn't want for Ruth what he and those who had loved him had had to endure.

Harry was brought out of his reverie when Ruth spoke. "I should go home and leave you be," she said, at last offering him her direct gaze, her eyes puffy, conveying her deep sadness.

"You can't go home now, Ruth. It's well after midnight. You're welcome to stay."

So, as on the day after Ruth had filled Rigaut with bullets, she showered, and dressed for bed in the same clothes of Harry's she'd worn to bed that night less than a month earlier. They said goodnight outside the door to the spare room. Ruth reached up to kiss Harry's cheek, and he grasped her waist, pulling her against him in a brief hug. Then he quickly turned and headed along the corridor to his own room.

* * *

Next morning Harry was awake by six, so he crept downstairs, hoping Ruth would sleep well into the morning. He had several phone calls to make; he needed to call Ros, and he needed to speak to felicity Ingram. He should have rung them once Ruth had turned up at his front door, but with her arrival, his mind had been in turmoil. While he sat over a cup of coffee and two slices of toast he put in a call to Felicity Ingram. There was a part of him which felt bad about speaking about Ruth to her psychologist without her knowledge, but he told himself he was putting Ruth's needs ahead of his own need to have her working next to him on the Grid.

He spent almost a half hour on the phone to Felicity, and then he rang Ros, who by that time was on the Grid and at her desk. What he told her had her sighing. "We're already understaffed, Harry. What if something big crops up, and we're three senior staff down?"

"Then do what we usually do, and call on help from GCHQ. There are at least three analysts at Cheltenham with whom Ruth has regular contact."

"And you? Who will I call in to replace you?"

"That's why I'm ringing you. I need you to sit in my chair for today, although I mean that figuratively. I like my chair the way it is. I'll handle my electronic mail from here, but I need you to run things on the Grid."

"Right. And I can expect you back tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"And Ruth?"

"I can't say. We may have to cover for her for a month .. maybe more."

Harry heard the sigh from Ros's end, and then her saying, "a month!" He had complete faith in Ros, and despite her complaints to the contrary, she would enjoy the added responsibility.

"If you need anyone extra in the field," he added, "you might like to give Alec White a call."

"Right, so we're not scraping the bottom of the security services personnel barrel, are we?"

"No, Ros, we're not. Alec is a fine operative .."

".. when he's sober."

Harry ended the call, hoping that his decision to take a full day away from the Grid was the right call to be making. His last call for the morning was to Ellen Penhaligon in Cornwall.

* * *

" _Cornwall!_ " Ruth exclaimed, once she'd heard where Harry had suggested she go to recover her equilibrium.

He knew she'd object, and that no amount of arguing or reasoning would placate her. To say that it was an idea floated to him by her therapist would be like salt added to the wound. "It's just until you get your groove back, Ruth."

"Groove? That's not a word I've heard you use before."

He smiled, hoping she'd agree quite soon so that he could take her there, and then drive back to London – to work. He needed to work, and Ruth needed to be somewhere different, just for a while.

"How long?" she said after a long silence.

"As long as it takes, but hopefully no more than a month."

"A _month_!"

"Were you to want to stay longer than a month I'd be worried."

"You're not staying?"

He shook his head. For the first time in over twenty-four hours Harry felt a surge of hope from deep in his belly. Of course, he'd love it were he spending some time with her in Cornwall, but that would be defeating the purpose of her having time away from London. Ruth had to spend time alone – with only herself for company – and she had to face her demons without the distractions of work and her life in London.

* * *

It was almost 3 pm when Harry drew the car off the road, and turned off the motor. "What do you think?" he asked her, turning to check her reaction to the chocolate box view which was laid out before them. In the distance the sea glistened in the afternoon sunshine. Huddled around the bay were houses, some stucco-rendered, while most were whitewashed in lime, and in the shallows near the shore fishing boats rocked with the incoming tide.

"So this is Port Isaac," she said. "Did you know this is where they filmed _Doc Martin_?"

"I suppose I should know what _Doc Martin_ is, shouldn't I?"

She turned to him, smiling. "Only if you're an incurable romantic."

Harry smiled into her eyes. She was so beautiful, and forgiving, and he loved her more at that moment than he had in all the years he'd known her. "Inside my head I am, Ruth."

She reached across and grasped his forearm, squeezing his muscles between her fingers. "I suppose that's a good start, then."

The cottage in which Ruth was to stay belonged to the security service, and had been used both as a safe house, as well as a holiday destination for certain section heads, but of late it had been a place where operatives who had been traumatised on the job could spend a few weeks away on their own, piecing themselves back together.

Harry turned from the road down a lane towards the sea. On each side of the lane wild flowers bobbed in the breeze which blew inland from the sea. At the end of the lane a small cottage built from local stone came into view. "This is it," Harry said, pulling his car next to the gate, which appeared to have swung open some time in the twentieth century, and had remained open ever since, giving the cottage an air of being abandoned. "This is your home for the next few weeks, Ruth."

Inside it was cosy, an open plan living area occupying most of the ground floor, with two bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs. There were flowers in a vase on the kitchen table, and a fire had been set in the fireplace in the living room. Harry watched as Ruth moved around the cottage, her fingers trailing over the furniture. A tantalising glimpse of the sea could be seen through the glass sliding doors which led from the living room to a small outdoor patio. "From memory I think there's a cliff path down to the beach," Harry said, "but you have to be careful where you put your feet. There's a guiding rail, of course, but it's steep."

"That will keep me fit, then," Ruth said, smiling.

In the kitchen fresh fruit had been placed in a clear glass bowl, and the fridge was full – milk, eggs, butter, cheese, and there was meat and fish in the freezer. Ruth made a pot of tea, and finding a freshly baked fruit cake in a tin on the counter, she cut slices for herself and Harry, and they sat at the table while they ate and drank.

"I have to leave soon," he said, after he'd eaten two slices of cake, regretting the second piece, because he really hadn't needed it.

"I know," Ruth said, avoiding eye contact.

"When you need supplies you have Ellen Penhaligon's number, and you have my number, and Felicity's number. Felicity plans to ring you each morning at 8, just in case you need to talk to her."

"I'd rather you rang me, Harry."

"I'll ring you each evening .. if that's what you want." She looked up at him, and he could see the sadness in her eyes. Perhaps she'd miss him; he knew he would miss her more than he was prepared to admit. "You're not being shoved out of the way, Ruth."

"I know, but it feels like I am."

"This time is for you to .. find yourself again."

"I hate that term."

"So do I, but I couldn't think of any other way to describe it. I wish I'd had the opportunity to do something like this .. years ago."

"What would you have done had you spent four weeks in a cottage on your own back then?"

Harry twisted his mouth in that way he had when he was caught out in a lie. "I guess I'd have drunk myself into a stupor on a daily basis."

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each knowing that their moment of parting was imminent. "I don't want you to go," Ruth said at last. Harry thought that perhaps he had imagined her saying those words, because they seemed so out of character for her. He reached out to cover her hand with his, and she turned her hand around to lace her fingers through his. "I'll be looking forward to you ringing me each evening."

"You can ring me any time, Ruth."

"That's not true, is it? You have to work, and concentrate on your job. I can't be ringing you just because I want to hear your voice."

No, she couldn't, but her wanting to was making his heart sing. He squeezed her fingers between his, and then slowly took his hand from her grasp. It wouldn't be fair on either of them for him to drag out their farewell. He rose from the chair, excused himself, and then headed upstairs to the bathroom, where he used the toilet, and then washed his hands and face.

Ruth accompanied him to his car, and just as he was about to get into the drivers' seat, she reached up and put her hand on his cheek. He knew that what he was about to do was a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. He bent to kiss her, placing his lips lightly on her own. Ruth slid her free hand around his neck and pulled him closer. He experienced a moment of temptation when the desire to take her inside and upstairs was strong, but it quickly passed when he compensated by sliding an arm around her waist while he kissed her properly – a lingering kiss bordering on passion. "I need to go now, Ruth," he whispered against her lips.

"I know," she replied, and then she stepped back, leaving him to get into his car.

As he drove away he smiled and waved, while Ruth blew him a kiss. Although he had a drive of almost five hours ahead of him, and so he wouldn't be home until close to 10 o'clock, Harry felt energised, a comforting warmth suffusing his belly. He knew better than to expect too much from his daily phone calls to Ruth. He would be calling her as her section head, and not as the man who loved her. Optimism was something he had long ago learned to put aside in favour of pragmatism. He would have no expectations, and then if things between him and Ruth progressed, then that would be cause for celebration. He turned on the radio and whistled along to a Vivaldi guitar concerto.


	7. Chapter 7

_**A/N: Thank you all for following and reading this fic, and for the kind reviewers. Given this story is set late in S9, a kind-of plot involving Lucas now begins to emerge.**_

* * *

7\. I think he's beyond reason.

Nine days later – mid afternoon:

No sooner had Harry stepped through the pods and into his office than he rang Ros, who had been working at her desk almost daily since her return from sick leave over three months earlier.

"I need you here," he stated bluntly, assuming she'd recognise his voice and not argue about it.

Ros took several minutes to lock her system, then fossick around under her desk for her walking stick, before covering the distance between her desk and Harry's office. "You called?" she said as she carefully crossed the office to the chair she normally occupied, across the desk from Harry.

"I met Lucas," he began.

"What, just then?" Harry nodded. "Where? No, that hardly matters. What did he want?"

"I thought you should know that he's serious about getting hold of Albany."

"Albany?"

"The genetic weapon he mentioned when he spoke to you, and which I assured you is inoperable, although it _appears_ to be a working weapon."

"Don't tell me he wanted to meet you so that he could _ask_ for it." Harry nodded. "That's .. I thought I'd never have to say this about Lucas, but that's incredibly naive, and ... risky. I trust you declined the request." Again Harry nodded. "Do you even know where it is, who has it?" This time Harry shook his head. "He wouldn't have liked that."

"He didn't, and I genuinely have no idea where it's being kept, although were I the one in charge of finding a safe place for it, Porton Down would be high on my list. Why would I know its whereabouts? The chairman of the select committee for defence would have more idea than I, and as you know, Alistair Conway and I are not in the habit of exchanging Christmas cards, so he'd hardly be likely to share with me the whereabouts of a genetic weapon."

"Did you tell him that?"

Harry sat back in his chair, and in that disconcerting way he had, he stared at Ros, barely seeing her. "No, I didn't. I don't wish to fob him off onto some unsuspecting politician."

"That's kind of you."

"On the contrary. I have enough politicians baying for my blood. I don't wish to add Alistair Conway to that pack." Again Harry waited before he spoke. "Lucas was not pleased with my answer, and so displeased was he that he threatened me." Harry watched while Ros frowned, waiting for him to continue. "His threat involved Ruth. He mentioned something about taking her – he used the word kidnap – and holding her until such time that I deliver the weapon."

"Jesus wept!"

"Exactly. This is where you come in, Ros."

"You want _me_ to talk to him? Thank you for that."

"I think he's beyond reason, so that even your particular brand of persuasion is unlikely to sway him. I'm worried for Ruth's safety, especially since she's alone in the house where she's staying." Harry hesitated, his eyes dropping to the open file on his desk, before he renewed eye contact with Ros. "Tell me, do you have any idea where Ruth is staying?"

"None," Ros replied. "You made certain of that."

"I haven't shared her hideaway with anyone, and I chose somewhere which is off the books, so to speak. I need to be sure that she can't be traced through our system."

"So you want me to speak to Tariq, and get him to .. falsify data entries, erect electronic smoke screens ..."

"Yes, would you mind?" Ros shrugged and then shook her head. "You're better at speaking Tariq's language," to which Ros gave Harry a thin-lipped half smile, half sneer. She began to get up, taking her walking stick from where she'd left it hooked over the back of the chair. She had stood and was about to leave when she stopped, turning to face Harry. "What is it?" he asked.

"Do you think he might seek me out … hoping I'll spill the beans about where Ruth is staying?"

"That had occurred to me, yes."

"And so you've informed me about your meeting with him just so that you can warn me .. should I have knowledge of Ruth's location?"

"No, Ros. I hadn't shared with you where I was taking Ruth, and so I expected that you wouldn't know. Lucas will expect you to be my acting section chief, so you're my go-to person ..."

".. in Ruth's absence."

"Is that what you think?" Harry said, dropping his voice.

"No, but it has become the way things are around here."

"Then I will endeavour to consult you more often, Ros, but you must understand that Ruth's perspective tends to be unique and -"

"Yes, I know," said Ros quickly, eyeballing Harry. "Am I in any danger?"

"I wouldn't have thought so. Lucas wouldn't hurt you."

Ros twisted her mouth. "I would also have thought Lucas wouldn't hurt Ruth, but .." This time it was Harry who lifted his mouth to one side in an acknowledgement of the truth of Ros's observation. "And how is Ruth?" she added.

Harry was surprised by the question, so surprised that he answered automatically. "Ruth is fine," he said.

"Good," Ros replied, before turning from him and leaving the office.

* * *

The truth was that Harry believed Ruth to be anything but fine, although she was putting on a brave face, and speaking with him in a voice filled with an optimism he was certain she didn't feel. Since he'd driven Ruth to Cornwall he had rung her each evening, either from his office after his staff had left for the day, or as soon as he arrived home. Whenever he'd asked her how she was she had always answered `fine', and so he no longer asked her, and they spent a half hour or more each evening just talking. Their topics of conversation varied from how Ruth had occupied herself that day, to what she planned to do the following day, along with veiled questions about what was happening at work. Mostly Harry was able to answer her in generalisations. He was aware that his nightly phone calls were not to unduly stress her, and yet he would need to inform her of Lucas North's plan to kidnap her. First, he had a few things to do.

He picked up his desk phone and keyed in a series of numbers. While waiting while the call connected and then rang several times, he watched as Ros pulled up a chair beside Tariq, and spoke to him quietly, her blond head leaning close to his dark mop. He observed them just long enough to see Tariq nod several times to what Ros was saying. _Batter_ _safe on_ _first_ _,_ he thought, followed by irritation with himself for even thinking in a baseball reference. _Bloody cousins_ , he thought, before a male voice drawled in his ear.

"Yeah?" the man said.

"Alec -"

"Harry. What could you possibly want with me?"

"I have a job for you. Do you remember Lucas North?"

Alec White laughed mirthlessly, and then said, "Once known, never forgotten. Don't tell me you want the rogue taken out."

"No, Alec, I don't. Quite the opposite. I need someone skilled in surveillance to keep an eye on him."

"And you thought of me because …?"

Harry sighed into the phone. He could have given the task to Dimitri Levendis, but he needed someone old school, someone old enough and crusty enough to be able to blend into the background, someone unremarkable, but street smart. Despite Lucas and Alec having once known one another, Lucas was not thinking straight, and in the dozen or more years since the two men had worked together, Alec had gathered a few grey hairs and the weathered features of a hardened drinker. Alec was an old dog, worn down by the years and too much alcohol. "Because you're the only one whom I know will not screw this up," Harry replied. "I need to know where he is at all times."

"So .. where is he now?"

"I'll check with my technical officer and then text you. I'll also provide you with a backup team of four junior field agents, all of whom display superior skills in surveillance. I'll check with them first, and then send you their details. You'll need support, Alec. I don't expect you to be on the job day and night."

"I prefer working at night," Alec grumbled.

"You'll be in charge of your team, so how and when you do this is your call."

Harry ended the call, and then quickly called the four junior agents, all of whom were already in the field, performing long term surveillance on people considered to be moderate threats to national security.

Still with a pile of paperwork to plough through, Harry placed the phone in its cradle, and turned his attention to the reports.

* * *

With Tariq busy in the technology suite, and Ros having headed home just before 8 o'clock, Harry took out the pay as you go phone he kept for his communications with Ruth, and pressed her number. Like always, he experienced a flutter of nervousness in his belly as the phone rang several times. What if she's already in bed? What if she's asleep? In the shower? What if she doesn't want to talk to him?

"Hello, Harry," she said warmly, and with those two words, Harry's teetering world righted itself once more.

"I hope I haven't interrupted your dinner."

"Hardly. I had dinner ages ago. I was just about to head to bed."

"I'm sorry. I'll -" His mind was filled with images of Ruth in pyjamas, her face free from make-up, her hair still wet from the shower, curled up on the sofa, her knees pulled up. He closed his eyes and tried to erase the image, but with little success.

"But I'd rather talk to you than go to bed."

Harry was sure she was teasing him. Her voice sounded light and even happy. "I'm afraid I have some news which is not terribly good."

"Has anyone else …?"

"No-one has been hurt, no. We're all .. well, or most of us are well." Still the mental image wouldn't leave him - Ruth curled up on the sofa, her eyes dancing in the reflected light from the open fire, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of the blanket she had draped over her knees. He wished that he was with her, but then … he was not someone she'd want with her during her recovery. It seemed to him that he always made things worse for her.

"Harry? Tell me. Has something happened?"

So, he told her about the situation with Lucas, culminating in his meeting with Lucas earlier that day, and what Lucas had threatened should he not miraculously produce Albany.

"I told you that you shouldn't trust him, Harry, but -"

"I know you did."

"And now your faith in him is coming back to bite you .. and me, ultimately."

"He can't possibly know where you are," Harry said curtly.

"You told me that this place is off the books."

"It is."

"So .. why are you telling me this? I'm here alone. Should he decide to come after me, there's not a lot I can -"

"He can't possibly find you, Ruth. He'll no doubt try your flat, and perhaps bail up Ros and -"

"And you're happy with that? Harry, this is a mess."

"I know, but Tariq is covering any tracks that may have been left when I drove you there .. to where you are, and I have a semi-retired agent on surveillance, keeping his eye on Lucas."

"So you have some geriatric looking -"

"Alec White is at least a decade younger than me, and his surveillance skills are equal to Adam Carter's." The mention of Adam's name had them both falling silent as they remembered their friend and colleague whose life had spun out of control after the death of his wife. "I trust him to run a surveillance team, Ruth. If anything more happened to you, I don't know what I'd do."

"You'd go on, Harry, like you always do."

"I wouldn't," he said quietly, "not this time."

Harry sighed into the phone, hoping that Ruth could read the deeper meaning between his words.

"It's just that I'm afraid, Harry."

Harry rested his forehead between the fingers of one hand, drawing the phone closer to his mouth. "I know you are. I wish I was closer, and I could be there with you, so that -"

"No, Harry, you misunderstand me. I'm afraid for _you_. It's _you_ he wants to hurt. It always has been. You're so busy looking after others .. the country, your agents, _me_.. that you forget to look after yourself."

As usual, Ruth was right. He didn't have an assurance for her. "Perhaps it would be best for everyone concerned were he to kill me, because if he can't find you – and he won't – then he'll come after me."

"That's self-pitying rubbish, and you know it. You can't afford that level of self-indulgence, Harry. Why don't you simply bring him in?"

"Because he has to be caught in the act of kidnapping, or intent to commit an act of treason."

"That's never stopped you before. He's shared with you his intent to commit treason, and normally that would be enough."

"You're right, of course." Harry hesitated before he continued. "Just in case he does find you, and I don't expect that to happen, until further notice perhaps you should stay inside with the doors locked and bolted."

"I do that most days. It rained all day today."

"Good."

"Good? Do you want me to go stir crazy?"

"No, of course not. I -"

"How long do I need to stay here?" Her voice was calm, her tone rather colder than previously in the conversation.

Harry waited a moment while he suppressed a sigh. "That's between you and Felicity."

"Felicity thinks I need to break down."

"Break down?"

"Fall apart. Lose control. Go to bed and cry for a week."

For once Harry had to agree with the optimistic Felicity. "Are you at peace, Ruth?"

"At peace? Whatever does that mean? Who in this mad world is at peace?"

With her last few words, Ruth's voice had become chilly, and even a little angry. Harry was tired, and he needed to get home, have something to eat, and fall into bed. "I don't know of anyone who feels at peace, Ruth." _Least of all me_ was left unsaid, but understood.

They had run out of things to say to one another, so he quickly ended the call, and then slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket. He sat back in his chair and stared through the large window which overlooked the Grid. All around him was still .. and dark and quiet.

* * *

Harry felt the buzzing of his phone beside his bed, and opened his eyes. His digital clock read 4.47 am, and yet he was sure he'd only just closed his eyes. He lifted his body from the prone position and reached for his phone. He squinted at the display to see Alec's name.

"Alec?"

"I just thought I should let you know that Lucas North is on the move."

Harry pulled himself upright, and leaned against the headboard, trying to force himself awake by pressing his fingers into his eye sockets. "And? Do you know where he's headed?"

"I'm in a taxi, and I'm close behind him. There's only one place he could be headed .. if he wants to find your analyst who is hiding in a safe house."

At Alec's words, Harry was wide awake. "How do you know that?"

"I've had audio surveillance on his flat. You know, the directional kind. And before you ask, I'm using my own kit."

"Who was he talking to?"

"I think he may have an accomplice. I didn't catch their name, although they spoke with some kind of accent. Lucas was on the phone, and mentioned a street just east of East London Cemetery. We're almost there now."

"Turnstone Close," Harry breathed.

"Yeah. Do you know it?"

"Mi6 have a safe house there. It's just an unremarkable red brick place." Harry heard Alec telling the taxi driver to pull over and wait. "What now, Alec? You can't just walk up to him and – wait, I have another call."

"I'm going in," Alec said, before ending the call.

"Shit," Harry said, irritated that Alec had hung up.

"Harry?"

"Sorry, Tariq. What is it?"

"Ten minutes ago I had a call from Alec White."

"I've just been on the phone to him."

"So you know he's on his way to the Mi6 safe house in -"

"Yes," Harry said, suddenly irritated. "What is it?"

"I've checked Mi6 records. They have an agent staying there while she recovers from bullet wounds she received while on an operation on the northern border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. Her name's Kristen Ahmed, and according to her description, she's a dead ringer for Ruth."

"It's not Ruth, Tariq. She's elsewhere. She's safe."

"Then who is this woman?"

"Clearly someone who looks a lot like her."

Both men fell silent, as they considered the implications of what could happen when Lucas North discovered that the woman he was about to kidnap was not Ruth Evershed.


	8. Chapter 8

8\. I just hope they can locate his brain.

Harry had had the quickest shower of his life, and was just finishing shaving when his phone again rang. He expected the caller to be Alec or Tariq, but this time the name on the display belonged to the person with whom he least wished to speak.

"Harry Pearce," he said, perhaps rather too formally for so early in the morning.

"It matters not that this woman isn't Ruth, Harry. A brunette is a brunette, and so this one will have to do. She tells me her name is Kristen. Albany for this woman's life."

"I've already told you that I have no idea where it is."

"Bullshit. Stalling will only ensure that this woman dies."

"Lucas .."

Harry hadn't had time to formulate a sufficiently placating answer when down the phone he heard a loud crash, and then several male voices shouting. Then it was clear that Lucas had dropped his phone, but had omitted to end the call. Harry was powerless to do anything but listen.

"Who the fuck are you?" he heard Lucas saying, accompanied by a whimpering, which must have come from the woman he was in the process of kidnapping.

"Let the woman go." Alec's voice. Harry hoped he had backup, because Alec had little chance in a one-to-one skirmish with Lucas.

There was a gun shot, and then more voices. Harry couldn't determine to whom they belonged, and then the line went dead. He looked at his phone, wondering whether Lucas had picked it up and ended the call. A more likely scenario would be that he'd accidentally stepped on it. Given that his house was at the very least a fifty minute drive from the safe house, Harry could only wait.

First things first. He headed into his bedroom to dress for the day, and then went downstairs to the kitchen. He needed a strong coffee.

* * *

Harry received regular updates from Tariq, who, through an earpiece, was able to listen to everything happening within Alec's earshot.

"Lucas is down, and the girl is threatening to destroy Lucas's manhood .. with her teeth," he said when he first phoned Harry with a `progress' report. When next he rang it was less than ten minutes later, but things had escalated. "The girl got shot in the thigh, and now she's bleeding quite freely. Alec and Tony and Jack have Lucas on the floor. I think one of them hit him, but I can't be sure. Lucas groaned, and then he said nothing. He might even be dead."

Harry resisted the urge to drive to the scene, but chose instead to drive to Thames House. He'd eat later, once the situation was under control. When he stepped onto the Grid he was met by Ros, who looked like she hadn't slept at all. "It's all over," was all she said. Harry dipped his head to the side, inviting her into his office, where he turned on the light before he sat down, and indicated with his eyes that she should sit in her usual chair. "You can let Ruth know that she's no longer in danger," Ros continued once she'd sat down, "if in fact she ever was."

Harry nodded. "Where is he, and where is the girl he tried to kidnap?"

"They're both in hospital. The girl took a bullet to the thigh – through and through – while Tony Sumner, who'd entered the house by the back door, attacked Lucas from behind, hitting him across the back of the head with a plank of wood he'd found outside the flat. It knocked him out."

"Is he all right?" Harry asked, suddenly concerned. The last thing his section needed was another dead agent.

"He was unconscious for around ten minutes, but I imagine he'll live. He's having scans and all that. I just hope they can locate his brain," Ros added, "because he's been acting like he's misplaced his."

Harry nodded. "I'll visit him later this afternoon. I trust he's safely under guard."

"His room is locked from the outside. Tony and Jack are there now, while Alec is due to take over the late shift. I thought I might pay him a quick visit this afternoon." Ros hesitated, breaking eye contact with Harry before she continued. "What are your plans for Lucas?"

"He needs considerable time away from the service. I'd resisted decommissioning him, but that appears to be my only option at present."

"Had you done that when I suggested -," Ros began.

"He would have done this anyway. Clearly he needed a lot of money. Do you have any idea why he would have needed so much money?"

"I can only guess. The woman he's been mooning over – Maya – has been encouraging him to leave the service. He hasn't confided in me .. just provided some snippets of information which I've had to piece together in my own way. I'm not even sure Maya is a real person. I've never seen her, so maybe she's ..."

Harry twisted his mouth to the side while he contemplated Ros's words. "I can't imagine he's that far gone, but after today nothing would surprise me."

They sat in silence for a few moments, and then Ros added, "I suppose it's a bit too early for a drink, isn't it?"

Harry smiled and then checked the time on his wristwatch. "7.20 am. Yes, I think so. Give me twelve hours and I'll welcome that drink."

* * *

The first thing Harry did after the 8 o'clock briefing with his available team was to send Ruth a text message, informing her about Lucas. For far too long he fussed over the correct wording, so that in the end the text he sent was abrupt and to the point. _It's now safe for you to unlock your doors and_ _venture_ _outside. Lucas_ _is_ _in hospital after an aborted attempt to kidnap a female Mi6 agent from a London safe house._ Then he worried about how best to sign off. Without a personal touch, the message was too formal, too official. In the end he placed a ` _x'_ at the end.

While waiting for Ruth to reply to his text Harry wriggled in his seat, got up to close the blinds, and then got up again to open them, while checking his phone every two or three minutes. Forty minutes after he'd sent the text she rang him on his pay as you go phone. "Yes?" he said, not yet relieved of his escalating nervous tension.

"I'm on the cliff top wondering whether I should climb down to the beach."

"Have you checked the timing of the tides?"

"Of course I have. I noticed you left a tide book on the kitchen counter beside the electric kettle. Hardly a subtle move, Harry."

He sighed with relief at the note of teasing in Ruth's voice. "You got my text?"

"Yes. I must say I was disappointed."

"Disappointed? Why?"

"Only one kiss at the end."

He was a little shocked by her teasing. All those years ago they had quite comfortably flirted with one another, but since she'd returned from Cyprus he'd had to tread carefully around her, and they were still a long way from being as relaxed with one another as they'd been back then. "I .. thought .. maybe .."

"It's all right, Harry. I like the kiss at the end. Do you put a kiss at the end of texts you send to your other staff members?"

"Of course not."

"I'm flattered."

"I'm not trying to flatter you, Ruth. I was just attempting to convey .. how I feel."

"I already know how you feel."

Of course she did. "Do you want to know what happened earlier this morning?" When she said she did, he spent another fifteen minutes describing the morning's events to her, and then answering her questions.

"Have you seen Lucas since this happened?"

"Not yet. Ros is planning to visit him in early afternoon, and I'll see him after that. I think I need to inform him in person that I'm decommissioning him."

"I'm sure he'll expect that."

Harry wasn't so sure he would expect it. The Lucas who attempted to kidnap a total stranger in the early hours was a different man to the one who'd returned to England from Russia.

* * *

It was mid afternoon before Harry heard from Ros Myers. "I've just seen Lucas, Harry. He asked after you."

"Not an enquiry into my health, I take it."

"Sadly, no. He says he needs to talk to you."

"How did he seem?"

Harry heard Ros take a deep breath and then sigh down the phone. "Mollified. I suspect the cocktail of drugs he's been given have rearranged his brain cells, and he's seeing things differently. I did meet Maya, though. She's a doctor at the hospital."

"Did you find out anything?"

"Not really. She's as perplexed as we are. It seems he didn't share the details with her, either. I don't know, but she intimated she'll be attempting to separate herself from .. what he did."

"That's hardly surprising." Harry hesitated before he continued speaking.

"So .. you're still planning to speak with Lucas?"

"I thought I might."

Harry had only just finished his call to Ros when he received a call from Kadir Khan, who was Kristen Ahmed's section head at Six. Thirty minutes later Harry was in his car and on the way to the hospital. He was not looking forward to seeing his former section chief. Seeing a once powerful and seemingly invincible man at his lowest ebb was not something he relished. He was relieved to see Jack guarding the entrance to the corridor, with Tony standing just outside the door to Lucas's hospital room. Tony nodded to Harry, and then unlocked the door to the room. "Do you need me to keep an eye on you while you're in there?" Tony asked, dipping his head in the direction of Lucas.

"Is he ambulatory?"

"Not in the slightest. He seems a bit … zonked."

"Then no, I won't. Unless he plans to poison me with his words, I expect we'll be fine."

Harry stood just inside Lucas's hospital room as the door was closed and locked behind him. The man on the bed was a shadow of Lucas North. His face was pale, his head bandaged with white gauze. His eyes were closed, his arms resting on top of the bed covers. Harry approached slowly and sat on the chair beside Lucas's bed. He could wake him, but he thought it best to wait until Lucas woke in his own time.

Harry sat silently on the chair in Lucas's hospital room, and allowed his mind to wander to the man he had known both before his incarceration in Russia, and then again once he returned to the UK. Lucas had always been a complex man, one who had triggered extreme reactions in others – women as well as men. Harry had wanted to trust him, which was why he'd rejected Ruth's warning. She'd been right. He should have listened to her. Her instincts were always so much sharper than his own, which were so often clouded by shared history, as well as a generous dose of wishful thinking. Thinking about Ruth had his mind wandering to the day he'd driven her to Port Isaac, and how, on the drive there they had talked so freely and easily, chiefly about safe subjects, such as the state of the Grid without Lucas, about how stressed the field officers were without Ros to lead them in the field, about the burden of work Tariq was having to shoulder, and about how he, Harry, needed to take more time off, away from work.

"I don't need any more time off," he'd complained.

"Everybody does," Ruth had countered. "If you continue burning the candle at both ends you'll crack up."

Maybe Ruth was right. She usually was.

"Harry, how kind of you to pay me a visit," Lucas's voice was deep, but weak.

Harry focused on Lucas and nodded. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Numb." Harry nodded. "So, why are you here? I'm a little old for a telling off."

"Perhaps, but you're never too old to have your life saved by being redirected to another area of the security service."

Lucas stared at Harry, his forehead wrinkled in a deep frown, as he attempted to absorb Harry's words. "This is where I again get sent to some hell hole in the third world .. isn't it? Where is it this time – Somalia? Sudan? Myanmar?"

"Pakistan. Mi6 are a man .. er, woman down in Pakistan."

"Jesus!"

"I hear it's better than Russia, and preferable to twenty years in gaol for attempted treason," Harry said briskly, with no sign of emotion.

"What if I refuse?"

"Then you'll likely be given a gaol sentence. I wouldn't advise you to object, Lucas. I'd been about to decommission you. At least this way you'll still have a job."

Lucas looked away and stared at the ceiling, his mind clearly in turmoil. He turned his eyes back to Harry, and the older man could see in them the contempt that perhaps he had earned when he'd allowed Lucas to rot in a Russian prison. "And what about Maya? She hasn't visited me. She's expecting me to contact her."

"One of the conditions of your change in … employment is that you make no attempt to contact Maya Lahan. She has asked me to give you that message."

"Bullshit."

Harry took out his work phone and offered it to Lucas. "Ring her and see. When she knows it's you she'll hang up."

The belligerence drained from Lucas as he flopped back against his pillows. Harry noticed a tear at the corner of Lucas's right eye, which then rolled down his cheek, and he made no attempt to wipe it away. "I love her so much," he said hoarsely.

"Then if you love her that much you'll let her go."

Again Lucas turned towards Harry, but this time his eyes were flashing with anger. "And I suppose you know all about that, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Harry held Lucas's eyes, not wanting to be the one to look away first. Let him ask questions. Let him try to understand. "If you really love her, then you have to leave her to live her life safely .. in this country."

Lucas looked away, and Harry noticed the relaxing of the younger man's jaw, as though his own words had hit home. "Who is to be my section head?"

"Kadir Kahn. He'll be contacting you in the next few days. He'll find you somewhere else to live. Somewhere you can -"

"- make a fresh start. Yes, I know all about that." Harry waited for Lucas to further object, but all the fire seemed to have left him. He was beginning to accept his future .. his future without Maya. Harry also knew all about that.

* * *

Between comparing notes on Lucas with Ros, checking Tariq's findings about Lucas's phone calls, and fending off awkward questions from the Home Secretary, Harry had had little time to think about Ruth. He was about to ring her when Ros appeared in his office doorway. "Got a minute?" she asked, although she was already half way to the chair. Harry nodded, indicating the chair in which Ros was already about to sit. "I've had two calls from Towers," she began.

"Only two?"

"He wanted to know what was going on."

"What did you say?"

Ros looked down. "I suggested he ring you."

"Well, thanks for that."

"And has he?"

"Rung me?" Ros nodded. "He has. Three times, and each time I've told him the bare bones of the story. He's a politician, and if he got wind of what almost happened with Lucas, he may find it hard to not tell someone."

"Is that what you think of him?" Ros asked.

"Don't you?" Harry felt his frustration levels rising, as he slipped a finger inside his collar, running it around to separate the collar from his skin.

"I barely know the man. I was in hospital for -"

"I know you were. I'm still assessing him, and until I know which way he leans -"

"Meaning whether he's in support of what we do, or in support of his own job."

"Exactly. Until I know that, then I'm only sharing with him what I consider to be absolutely necessary. The less he knows about Lucas North's intentions the better."

"You're afraid he'll make an example out of it?"

"Yes." Harry still felt deeply uncomfortable, and he sat with his hands clasped on the desk in front of him, trying hard to appear in control of his emotions. The truth was he was very far from it. "There has been nothing documented about Lucas's demands .. his intentions .. and there's every chance Towers has never heard of Albany."

"Do you think that likely?"

"I do. He can't possibly know everything .. can he?" Harry stared at Ros, hoping she'd get the hint and drop the subject. It had caused them all so many headaches already, without the Home Secretary getting wind of it.

"So you're saying we should simply drop it?"

"That is what I'm saying."

Ros stood up, slowly, because it was close to the end of the day, and she was tired. "Then on your head be it," she said, leaving.

Harry nodded. Wasn't absolutely everything on his head?

* * *

With Ros heading back to her desk, and almost everyone else having left for the day – barring Tariq, who appeared to live on the Grid – Harry took out his pay as you go phone, and was about to ring Ruth when his desk phone rang. One look at the caller display had him dropping the mobile phone back in his pocket, and picking up his desk phone.

"Felicity?" he said, hoping that Ruth's psychologist was just wanting to compare notes, and that nothing more sinister was afoot.

"Mr Pearce -"

"Harry .. please, call me Harry."

"Harry, have you spoken to Ruth today?"

"Yes, but it was much earlier today. I was just about to call her when you rang."

"I'm just ringing you to let you know that for the time being Ruth has decided to not take any calls, other than from me, although she's even reluctant to do that."

Harry felt a chill in his chest and neck. "Can you share with me why that is?"

"I took a call from her around two hours ago. She was having what I could only describe as a panic attack, but what I suspect is the beginning of a period of break down."

"Break down? She's on her own. Is it safe to let that happen?"

"Provided someone checks on her daily, and I believe she has a woman who is doing that."

"Ellen Penhaligon. Many years ago Ellen spent a number of years in admin at Section D. She's discreet .. and wise." Harry waited a moment to allow that information to sink in. "After around a week I asked Ellen to call in on Ruth daily .. just in case. There was also a situation here to do with an agent who'd gone off the rails, but I texted Ruth once the situation had cleared, so -"

"I think, whatever that situation was -"

"And I can't tell you what it was."

"I know that, Harry. I think it was that … perceived threat which set Ruth off."

"Should I be worried?" Whether he should or not, Harry _was_ worried.

"No, not unless Ruth has ever shown signs of … how shall I say it ..?"

"You're asking me if Ruth has ever shown signs of wanting to end it all?"

"Yes. Has she?"

"Not in the time I've known her, and I have known her for almost eight years. It was only a little over eighteen months ago that she lost her partner, and then was denied contact with her step son, and only weeks later one of our agents – to whom Ruth was especially close – was killed in the line of duty. I wouldn't say that Ruth has been terribly happy since these events, but nor has she been suicidal."

"I agree with you. She has told me about all the events you mentioned. I think that as much as she misses the three people concerned, it's been a blessing that she still has you."

Well, she'd floored him with that observation. Harry was quite literally lost for words. Felicity quickly ended the call, citing a appointment with a client. Harry sat back in his chair, and for the second time that day he stared through the large window of his office into the darkened office area. Surely Ruth would answer a call from him … wouldn't she? She'd told him she loved him. She'd looked forward to his daily phone calls. Not accepting Felicity's words, Harry took out his pay as you go phone and dialled Ruth's number. He listened as it rang six times, and then went to voice mail. He left a quick message, the gist of which, once he'd closed the phone, he couldn't remember.

He waited, sitting at his desk, glancing through a summary of the day's risk assessments compiled by Ros. He initialled each page as he skimmed through, but most of his attention was on the phone which sat next to his left hand, ready to grab it should it ring.

Around an hour after he'd rung Ruth she sent him a text message: _I have asked Felicity to ask you to not contact me until I am ready to again talk to you. Please respect my request for some space. xx_

Harry sat back and sighed. Patience was not normally one of his virtues, but this time he had little choice. He had done it before and he could do it again. He would keep busy until Ruth was once more ready to speak to him.


	9. Chapter 9

9\. I'm ready to come home

A week after Harry had visited Lucas in hospital, on the same day he'd received a `no communication' text from Ruth, Ros paid Lucas one last visit. On her return to the Grid, Harry had deliberately avoided mentioning Lucas, believing that Ros would be upset, thus reluctant to talk about it. He should have known he'd get it all wrong. She worked at her desk, her head down, for over an hour, so Harry was surprised when she stormed into his office – without knocking, and without the assistance of her walking cane – and loudly sat down in the chair opposite. He watched her closely, waiting for her to speak, and when she did, he could not have been more surprised.

Eventually Ros lifted her eyes to Harry's and stared hard, but he stared back just as hard. "It bewilders me what Ruth even sees in you, Harry," she began, "although I suppose it's fair to say you possess a brand of middle-aged charm which appeals to some .. especially someone as .. cultured as Ruth is."

Harry sat up, his interest piqued. "Sorry?" he said.

"What I'm saying is that your personal skills could do with some work."

"In relation to what .. or should I say whom?"

"Possibly in relation to everyone, but in this instance I'm suggesting that you could have contacted Lucas once more before sending him off into the great unknown."

Harry sat back in his chair, wondering whether he had a need to be explaining his reasons to his section chief. "What is this about?" he asked.

"I find it .. strange that after bringing Lucas into our odd little family you so easily let him go."

"Not easily, no, but he did threaten to kidnap one of ours -"

"He threatened to kidnap Ruth."

"Who is one of our team."

"She's more than that to you."

Ignoring her, he kept going. "Not only that, he was prepared to draw me into his little scheme to steal a genetic weapon, and then sell it to the highest bidder."

"The Chinese. He was about to sell it to the Chinese, and given he is unable to satisfy their demands, they will in all probability kill him."

"Which is why he's moved residences, and is under twenty-four hour guard. Ros, what is this about?"

Ros sat back in her chair and aimlessly picked at a thread on her jacket. It was clear to Harry that she was enjoying her little game. "He's offended that you didn't see him one more time."

"Ros, if I bowed to the whims of everyone I had offended by what I had either done or not done, then nothing would get done around here. Part of my job description is the ability to offend on cue, and I consider that I do it rather well -"

"- and often."

"That goes without saying. Besides," he said, dropping his voice, "were I to see Lucas again I can't guarantee that I won't put my hands around his neck and squeeze until all the life has left him."

He watched Ros hide her shock behind a bored expression. She didn't fool him. He knew that she knew he was not joking. Given the chance, he would kill Lucas. Harry did not handle betrayal well, and he considered Lucas to have betrayed him.

Like predator and prey, they sat watching one another. "Tell me," Harry continued, sitting back in his chair, remembering an event from the time when Lucas had shared his plan for Albany, "was the aborted attempt to hack into my system to do with the Chinese who have been waiting for Albany to materialise?"

"I was hoping you'd forgotten that. I asked Lucas, and he said he suspects so, although his Chinese .. contacts had been evasive whenever he asked about anything other than the conditions of their arrangement."

"They are hardly the first people to try hacking into Section D, and no doubt they won't be the last."

There was a lull in their conversation, while they each considered what might be the next step made by the Chinese. "It's unlikely they'll approach any of us," Harry added, hoping that to be the last word on the matter.

Ros appeared to understand that the conversation was over.

* * *

The attention of the section was soon drawn to other matters – a group in Birmingham who had developed an active presence online; a (still) unknown person or persons living somewhere in Essex who had taken to posting confronting images of dead and wounded Afghani citizens on an online blog; an importation of electronic components which may or may not have been parts for detonating explosive devices; several anonymous, but unrelated reports of anthrax being stored in South London. Harry considered it to be all in a normal week's work.

By the middle of the following week thoughts of Lucas North had been pushed to the back of Harry's mind, and Ros had been too busy to mention him. It was on Thursday afternoon, just as he had left the office of the Home Secretary, and was entering a lift that his pay as you go phone rang. He answered the call with her name. He was sure she'd know he was smiling.

"Do you feel like a drive to Cornwall?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm ready to come home, as soon as you can take a day or two away from work."

Harry hesitated before answering, and then the lift stopped at the ground floor, and he quickly stepped from the lift, leaving it free for a group of grey-suited men to enter. "I'm just leaving the Home Office," he said quietly into the phone.

"Did Towers offer you tea?" Harry was sure Ruth was smiling as she spoke.

"Yes, and scones with jam and cream."

"Nice for some."

"I declined. I'm watching my weight. Something to do with a woman I've been trying to impress, but with little success."

He heard the intake of Ruth's breath. "Do you mean me?"

"I might." Harry nodded to a couple of Home Office staff members as they walked past him. "I take it you're feeling better," he said quietly, as he stepped through the double doors and into a rare afternoon of sunshine.

"I'm not .. fixed, if that's what you mean."

"I know, Ruth. It may take years."

"It's been a difficult couple of weeks, but I'm ready to again .. allow the world in, which of course includes you."

* * *

Two days later:

Harry had asked Ros to not contact him unless the country was about to implode, and she had rather reluctantly promised to respect his wishes. So it was with a lightened mood that he turned his vehicle into the lane which led to the cottage where Ruth was staying in Port Isaac. The day was cool, but as he'd drawn closer to the small town, the cloud cover had parted to reveal a blue sky.

As he stepped from his car he noted that it was almost 5 o'clock. He knocked on the front door, but there was no answer, and no sounds from inside the house. He wandered down the narrow pathway which took him to the back of the house and the small patio. Again he knocked on the glass doors at the back, but there was still no answer. Remembering her comments to him about standing at the top of the cliff top and contemplating climbing down to the beach, Harry turned and walked the fifty or so metres to the top of the steps which led to the jagged pathway down the face of the cliff. He looked down to see a small figure in a floral skirt and blue jumper wandering along the sand, her shoes in one hand. Around her neck she wore a navy blue scarf which flapped in the wind. For a long moment he stood at the top of the steps, willing her to look upwards. Then he remembered how they'd been communicating by phone, so he took the pay as you go phone from his jacket pocket and pressed her number.

"Harry?" she asked.

"Look up," he said, "to the top of the cliff."

Although steep, it was not a terribly high cliff, and so he caught her expression when she looked up to see him waiting for her. Her smile was wide and relaxed. "Why don't you come down to meet me?"

"I'd thought of that, but then you'd have to carry me back up the steps."

Her laughter was so infectious, so welcome that he almost did climb down to meet her on the beach. They ended the call so that Ruth could concentrate on her climb to the top. When she was on the second to top step, Harry reached out with his hand and she took it, and he very carefully drew her up to the last step, and then to stand close to him, before wrapping both arms around her and pulling her against him. "It's so good to see you," she mumbled against his shoulder, and he reached down and kissed her hair, before slowly pulling away from her. They looked into one another's eyes, and he could see the relief in hers, and he hoped she could read the joy in his.

"I've brought an overnight bag," he said, "so perhaps you can show me my room."

With his words, Ruth's whole demeanor changed, and he felt his stomach drop, as though he'd been eating stones. She broke eye contact, and looked around them as if not quite sure where she was. "There's a bit of a problem with that," she said at last, turning from him and heading towards the cottage.

"Problem? But you knew I'd be staying the night .. didn't you?"

They had reached the glass doors at the back of the house, and Ruth was fumbling in her pocket for the keys. "Of course I did," she said curtly. "I was the one who suggested it."

"Then ..."

"There's no bed in the spare room," she said at last, having closed the doors behind them.

 _Was that all?_ "Then .." he began, looking around the large living area, "I can sleep on the sofa."

Ruth had left his side to enter the kitchen alcove, and had begun filling the kettle and fiddling with mugs and spoons. She turned to him, appearing marginally more relaxed. "Very well," she said, "whatever suits you."

He noticed she'd said nothing about sharing her bed, so it appeared that was off the agenda. While he was disappointed, nor had he built up his hopes. That was something he no longer did, especially in relation to Ruth. "I'll fit in with you, Ruth. I don't wish to .. intrude."

As they drank their tea Harry was aware of a detectable barrier of discord and unspoken thoughts between them. He could have addressed it, of course, but he didn't wish to make things worse. They would relax with one another, he was sure of it.

Except that he wasn't sure of it. He was sure of nothing. This was Ruth, and less than eight weeks ago she had shot a man, his blood spattering her clothes, face and hair as she'd fired a round of bullets into his body. _Thwack, thwack, thwack_ , was the sound bullets made as they cut into human flesh. _Thwack,_ was the sound of skin and muscle and blood being assaulted by a core of metal at high velocity. Harry felt himself shudder at the memory of how warm had been the blood of his victim when it had splashed his face.

"Are you all right?" Ruth asked, and when he looked into her eyes he saw her concern for him. Concern was so much better than indifference, or anger. He could live with concern.

"I was just thinking about something."

"Oh?"

Her smile rendered him brave. "I was thinking about the last time I shot someone, and how it had felt." As soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted them. He quickly broke eye contact with her before uttering a mumbled apology. "I should have edited that," he said.

To his surprise, Ruth reached out her hand, and although they were across the width of the table from one another, and so her hand couldn't reach his, the gesture was noticed by him. "It's all right, Harry. I've .. relived Rigaut's death over and over so that it's no longer quite so .. shocking to me."

"That's not such a good thing, Ruth."

"It is if I want to survive and live a normal life .. or something approaching a normal life. One thing Felicity taught me was that it's healthy to go over and over the event. I'd been trying to forget it."

"You'll never forget it."

"I know, but nor do I wish it to encroach on every thought I have."

Harry watched while she appeared to grapple with whether to continue speaking. In the end, silence won.

* * *

Once Harry had brought in his overnight bag, dropping it beside the sofa, but out of the way, Ruth suggested they prepare dinner together. "I've spent the last three and a half weeks alone, and I'd quite like you to talk to me, Harry. Tell me about what's happening at work."

He could hardly stay silent about work, not when she was due back at work in just under two days, so while Ruth sauteed the chicken breasts, and he sliced and diced the vegetables, he gave her the bare bones of what had happened while she'd been away. He enjoyed being close to her. While standing shoulder to shoulder she reached across him for a wooden spoon, so that he caught a whiff of her perfume, floral and subtle. Her light laughter lifted him when he amused her with a story about Tariq and Ros, and he relished watching her as she spoke about some random conversation she'd shared with a local resident, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

It was not until they were once again sitting across the table from one another, their dinner in front of them and an opened bottle of white wine between them that Ruth asked about Lucas. "How does he feel about going to Pakistan?" she asked.

"For him it's like Russia all over again, but he doesn't do well in a city environment. Besides, Lucas is beyond damaged. I should have listened to you."

"You should have, yes, but you always were a stubborn man." She noticed Harry's eyes widen with mild shock. "I meant it as a compliment, Harry. You always see the best in people, even when you shouldn't."

"Not always, Ruth. It took me some time to see the best in you."

She lifted her eyes to him and smiled, before dropping her eyes. "Water under the bridge," she said quietly.

What followed was a long silence while they each ate and drank, with occasional shy glances at the other. Harry could feel the atmosphere lightening, so much so that after Ruth had gathered their plates, removing them to the sink in the kitchen area, she returned with a fresh bottle of wine, newly opened, and fresh subject matter.

"I've been thinking," she began, twirling her glass between her fingers, avoiding eye contact, "and I've had ample time for thinking. I've been wondering about the nature of love, especially given that we each … believe that we love one another."

He hadn't expected that. How like Ruth to throw him in at the deep end and watch while he struggled to tread water. " _Believe_?" he managed to say at last.

"Yes, believe. What _is_ love, Harry?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Not at all." Ruth took her fingers from the stem of her wine glass, folded her arms on the table, and looked across the space to him. He could see that she was serious. She wasn't playing with him. "You say you love me," he nodded, "but what does that really _mean_?"

Harry sighed, breaking eye contact with her. He loathed conversations about feelings. How was it possible to describe in words the nature of love? He barely understood his own drives, so talking about them was nigh on impossible. "It means .. I don't know .. it means I enjoy being with you, and I'm miserable when we fight or when we're apart. My first thought in the morning and again at night is of you. But most of all," he added carefully, "I admire you tremendously. I admire your .. goodness." When he felt Ruth's eyes on his, he lifted his own to lock eyes with her. She was watching him closely. "What?" he asked. "Was there something wrong with what I said?"

Ruth took a mouthful of wine, all the time watching him. He felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a hunter's rifle. She waited until she'd swallowed and then placed her glass on the table before she answered. "There's nothing wrong with what you said, Harry. I thought it very honest and .. sweet. It's just that love tends to mean different things to different people, and I was ... just checking what it was for you .. that's all."

"So, what is love .. to you?"

Ruth dropped her eyes before speaking. "It's ... for me, at least ... feeling safe in the presence of the other."

"Are you saying you feel safe with me?"

Ruth quickly lifted her eyes to his, and then just as quickly dropped them again. "I wouldn't be alone with you here if I didn't feel safe with you. You always make me feel safe, Harry."

"That's not terribly ... romantic, Ruth."

"Perhaps not, but it's important ... to me. I need to feel safe with a man ..." and again her eyes flicked up to meet his, and then down again, "if I'm to experience sexual attraction."

Harry felt a rush of heat to his face and neck. Clearly, Ruth was telling him something, but he wished he'd taken a breath before saying what next left his mouth. "Did you feel safe with ...?" Immediately the words were spoken, he regretted his neediness. He watched Ruth closely, as she considered her answer.

"I suppose I must have," was all she said on the matter, but her eyes didn't quite meet his.

Harry felt that this was the right time for him to open up to her a little, and then to see where that took them. "When I was married," he said quietly, and this time he was the one who found eye contact to be too confronting for the subject matter, "I'd come home from an operation and pick fights with my wife. At the time I had no idea why I did it, and she would get upset, and I often had to sleep downstairs on the sofa, or in the spare bed in my son's room. It was later, after things had calmed down between us, that she'd tell me that when I arrived home from a ... difficult operation I'd either act pushy and rude ... or I'd say nothing to her or the children for days on end. I wish I'd known then why I did it, because at the time I felt that I had a .. right .. to be acting that way. When she eventually asked me to leave, I felt hurt and betrayed, but I now know that she was the one who'd been betrayed .. by me."

He stopped then, knowing he'd said enough. The rest would be up to Ruth. He waited for what felt like an hour or more, but was probably only a few minutes. He kept his eyes on his fingers, too afraid to look at her, fearing her reaction. All he wanted was for her to know him, to feel safe with him, to feel free to love him, and he knew no other way of doing that.

"Did you love your wife, Harry?"

"I did, yes. I loved her very much, but over time I turned into someone else, someone different from the man she'd married ... someone who wasn't terribly easy to love. I don't want that to happen to us."

"I don't want that for us, either," Ruth said quietly. He lifted his eyes to hers to see that she was watching him again. "Would you like to share my bed tonight?" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Had she really said that? In her eyes he saw a softness, so he nodded. "I'd like that very much, Ruth."

"And it won't damage our working relationship?" she asked.

"Not unless we let it."

With that, they both stood, and leaving their wine barely touched, they met beside the table, hesitating for a moment before they stepped into one another's arms.


	10. Chapter 10

_**A/N: Thanks you for reading, and a special thank you to those who have taken the time to review. Just a little warning about a bit of M-ish content in this chapter.**_

* * *

10\. I could get used to this.

When Harry awoke it was still dark inside the bedroom. He stretched his body under the duvet, noting he was naked, and that he felt loose-limbed and around fifteen years younger than his fifty-six years. The night before had been surprising, and sweet, and exciting, and very, very satisfying. They had almost not made it up the stairs, frequently stopping to kiss, to move hands across another expanse of skin not yet explored, skin which ignited as desired fingers and lips touched, caressed, grasped, sucked and kissed. By the time they reached Ruth's bedroom they were each down to their underwear, and so they'd staggered to the bed, where they took a moment to breathe, checking that the other was ready. The final disrobing had been little more than a formality. He'd taken his time with her. This woman he'd desired for so long was about to become his lover, and he was not about to rush her. He wanted to savour every kiss, every touch, every glance, every glimpse of skin, skin which Ruth had always covered with layer upon layer of clothing, leaving him for years having to undress her in his mind. Over and over he had imagined removing each layer of the many, until she lay before him as she had the night before – gloriously naked. He feared there was every chance this would only happen once.

" _This_ is love," Ruth had breathed as he'd begun to move inside her, gently at first, easing them into being together in this way. He had not argued with her about that, even when he'd felt her fingernails scratching the skin of his shoulders as she came.

As long as he lived, and no matter what became of him and Ruth in the future, he would never forget the previous night, and he would never, _could_ never be the same again. He was already a changed man. He felt gentle and quiet and at peace with himself and the world. The man who shouted and pouted and hurled vitriol at his staff was a distant memory, a person he barely knew.

Hearing a noise from the doorway he turned his head to see Ruth tiptoeing back to bed. She didn't look his way as she shrugged off her dressing gown, and then slid under the duvet and shuffled towards him, uttering a squeak when he reached for her, his fingertips meeting her bare skin.

"I thought you were asleep," she said

"I was, but I don't want to waste the time we have together by sleeping through it."

She reached up and drew his head to hers, and they kissed – a gentle, exploratory kiss. He felt her hands on his chest, and then they were stroking the sensitive skin of his belly, and as one hand dipped lower, and she gently took him in her hand, he groaned, not because her touch aroused him, but because he knew it would not be enough to arouse him fully. He was not used to this – a much younger woman craving his body – and while he basked in her attention, for a brief moment he wished himself ten years younger. "I'm sorry," he said, and she lifted her fingers to his face and caressed his cheek, before kissing him gently.

"It's fine," she said. "Why don't we just cuddle?"

Harry had other ideas. He reached under the duvet to grasp her hips, and then he slid across the mattress to lie close to her. So eager had they been to couple the night before, that he had not had a chance to savour her body. This was his chance to correct that, so with the devotion she deserved he loved her body with his lips, tongue and fingers. He gave special attention to her ears, neck, throat, breasts – he spent a long time loving her breasts – before he travelled down her body to her abdomen, and then to the tender skin just inside each hipbone, and just above the line of her pubic hair. He took his time, and when Ruth objected, he moved even more slowly, and then as he pushed his tongue between her legs, she gasped, unconsciously parting her legs even further. He was at home there, and as he heard her moaning, and then when she lifted her hips, he knew she was close, so he turned slightly, and slid two fingers inside her. While he had moved languidly down her body, taking his time with her, she came quickly, arching her body and almost tipping him off the bed, so violent was her body's reaction. He kept up the rhythm inside her, relishing the feel of her muscles rippling around his fingers.

Once she quieted, Harry returned to lie beside her, while Ruth curled into a ball and huddled against his body, her back towards him. He reached out to wrap his arms around her, and as he did he noticed her shoulders shaking, accompanied by deep gasping, and then heaving sobs. Something was happening, something he didn't understand, but he followed his instincts and held her, saying nothing, while she sobbed and cried, her face turned away from him. It was a long time before she was quiet, and then she lay so still that he thought she may have fallen asleep.

When she slowly turned to face him, he detected the streaks of tears down her cheeks and the bright clarity of her eyes. She wiped her face on a corner of the duvet, and then looked up at him, smiling. He released a breath, relieved she wasn't upset or angry, but still baffled by her unexpected display of emotion. He and Ruth didn't really do emotion.

"I'm sorry about that," she said quietly, watching him warily. She took a deep breath before she continued. "That was so .. wonderful. _You_ are wonderful."

He hadn't expected that. "I was worried. I'm not used to women crying after sex, Ruth .. not since the days when I was a selfish lover, and really terrible at it. Back then .. crying was the norm."

Ruth smiled widely. "I can't imagine you being terrible in bed, Harry."

"It was a while ago, but I was."

All that needed saying had been said, although Harry felt a subtle change in Ruth. It was as though her tears had exorcised the demons which had plagued her since George's death. He felt her body relax and her muscles soften, and then her breathing deepened as she slipped into a deep sleep. For some time he lay awake against her. While she'd been crying he'd been overcome by a deep need to protect this woman who had lost so much. He still didn't know what the future held for them, but he planned to be beside her always, to keep her safe, and if she would allow him, to try to make her happy. With that goal in mind, Harry closed his eyes and followed Ruth into sleep.

* * *

When next he woke, Harry noticed two things. One was that the sun was up, and the light in the room was subdued, softened by the cover of the curtains over the window. The other thing which he could hardly ignore was his firm erection pressed against Ruth's buttocks. Despite his high level of desire, he slowly pulled his body from her, and rolled onto his back. "Don't," he heard her mumble sleepily.

"Don't what?"

"Don't take yourself from me like that."

"But I -"

"And don't be embarrassed by your desire." Ruth turned to face him. "I _need_ you to desire me, Harry. I like it when you desire me."

He stared at her, certain she was being genuine. This was something new for him. He'd always had a healthy libido, and even though his recovery time had lengthened as he'd aged, he had little trouble with arousal, so long as he paced himself. And at that moment he wanted her .. very much. In his relationship past many women, his wife included, had rationed sex, so that he was only `allowed' to make love to them at certain times of their convenience. This had led him to picking up women in bars, women who gave him what he wanted, mostly how he wanted, and when he wanted it. His days of seeking the release of casual sex were long behind him. Once Ruth had returned to London, his desire for any women other than her had disappeared.

"What is it?" Ruth asked, watching him closely.

"I was .. thinking."

"I can see that. What were you thinking, Harry?"

"I was thinking that .. you are a remarkable woman, and I've never before met anyone like you."

Ruth turned on her side to face him, tucking her palm under her cheek, while she watched him. "I know that's not what you were thinking, but I like what you said."

Harry hesitated for a moment, wondering whether they were yet secure enough with one another for him to be telling her the truth. "You're right. That wasn't what I was thinking, although what I said is true also. I .. I was thinking that in my past, which I don't much wish to talk about, I have had my .. desire, my libido .. well, some have said things which have had me backing off."

"They've told you to put it away and take a cold shower."

This was a serious subject for him, and he could see that Ruth was taking him seriously. He nodded. There had been times when he'd felt that he'd had to earn the right to have sex with Jane, and so in the end he'd given up the chase. Placing such conditions on sex had deadened his desire for her, which had once been considerable. In the early days of their relationship, and then their marriage, their sex life had been exciting and inventive, and they'd both enjoyed it. With the birth of their children, that had changed, and things had never recovered. He'd acted foolishly and disrespectfully towards Jane and his marriage, and the rift between them had only worsened. It still upset him when he thought of it, and he knew it shouldn't.

"So long as you approach me respectfully, Harry, I won't be doing that to you, and if, for whatever reason, I ever look like doing that, then I need you to tell me. Please don't remain silent and sulk over it."

"I don't sulk," he said, glaring at her.

"Actually, you do, and while it might work with some of the Grid staff, I don't like it when you do it to me."

This really was a new Ruth. He'd need to watch himself around her. He smiled at her, and seeing her answering smile, he reached across and kissed her. A quick and chaste kiss was followed by a longer, deeper, open-mouthed snog, and Harry again felt himself becoming aroused. He briefly pulled away from her, watching her, asking a silent question. "It's all right, Harry. I want you."

With that, he pressed his body against Ruth so that there was no doubt about what he had in mind.

When at last they came together it was different again from the night before. They took their time with arousal and foreplay, and it was Ruth who suggested they move along. From moving inside her deliberately, his stroke measured and steady, Ruth moved her body against him in a quicker, more urgent rhythm. Harry wasn't complaining. It had been such a long time since a woman had wanted him as she seemed to want him. He would walk over hot coals for her, but at that moment frantic sex suited him just fine.

* * *

Dressed in nothing but their dressing gowns they ate a late breakfast of bacon and eggs, which Harry cooked, while Ruth prepared a pot of tea. From the table they could watch the fishing boats as they returned to the bay with their overnight catch. "I could get used to this," he said, as he reached out to cover Ruth's hand with his own.

"You surprise me. I thought you'd be itching to get back to London .. and the Grid."

"After last night and this morning? I'd have to be mad to want to leave here."

"But we must," she added. "Duty calls."

Harry picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips. "Duty has palled of late," he said, closely watching her face.

"What are you saying?"

"I know it's early days .. for us .. but I think a holiday is in order."

Ruth momentarily dropped her eyes, before looking up at him. "Do you mean a holiday for two?"

"Of course I do, and by two I mean you and me."

"I wonder are we ready for something like that. We've … only been together properly for less than a day."

"I know. I wasn't talking about next week, but some time soon."

He knew that with his talk of a holiday together he'd thrown them in at the deep end, and perhaps he should have waited to make that particular suggestion. It was truth time. "I'm aware, Ruth, that neither of us is young, and I may only have a decade or more of active life in me."

"You're a happy soul this morning," Ruth commented.

"I thought I was being practical. As nice as it is, we can't be drifting along, hoping we'll still love one another this time next week, and then this time next year. We need to plan to spend time together away from work. If we don't, there's the risk of us slipping back into our old habits."

She nodded, watching him closely. "I suppose you're right."

He was also watching her, waiting for the right moment to pop the next question. Now seemed a good time. "I need to ask you, Ruth," he began, "why now? We've known one another for years, and I've wanted this for most of that time, but you were so .."

"Difficult?"

"Elusive. You always appeared to be avoiding me. I could never get close to you, and just when I did, you'd change direction. In the end I lost all hope for us."

Ruth was staring through the glass door out to sea, and he hoped she'd been listening to him. She'd heard him. "I know I feel different now. I'm not .. frightened any more. I couldn't .. be with you when I was so afraid."

"Of what, Ruth?" His voice was gentle and quiet, and his attention was fully on her, this woman he adored.

"Of so much. Of loving you and then losing you. Of loving you, and then you losing me; Rigaut could easily have killed me, and he would have succeeded had I not wanted to live. Most of all, I've always felt so … powerless when with you."

"You'll have to explain that."

"In contemplating a relationship with a man who is in charge of so much and so many .. I was afraid of ..."

"Of _me_?"

"Of course not. I suppose I've been afraid of .. losing myself."

For a moment Harry frowned, absorbing her words. "I've never felt in charge of _this_ , Ruth," he said, flicking his fingers between them. "From where I stand, you have always been in charge of .. us."

Ruth nodded, understanding what he meant. "I suppose that I was afraid of these things, even though they hadn't happened."

Harry squeezed her hand again. "We have to leave in an hour," he said, watching for her response.

Her face said it all. Her eyes saddened, and she looked away, breaking eye contact. "I wish we could stay here for the rest of our lives."

Harry nodded. He had been thinking the very same thing.

* * *

The drive back to London was quiet. The roads were busy, so Harry had to concentrate on driving, but he was very aware of the woman beside him in the passenger seat. She was his world, and for far too long she had balanced his heart between her hands. He hoped she wasn't about to drop it all over again. After around an hour of their journey Ruth leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. Within minutes she appeared to be asleep. It was only when he pulled into a service station that she woke.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked, blinking at him.

"Around an hour."

Ruth rubbed her eyes and then shook her head, and looked around her. "I fancy a service station coffee."

"No-one ever fancies a service station coffee, Ruth," he replied, smiling at her.

"Then let's live dangerously."


	11. Chapter 11

11\. Where is Lucas now?

It was a little after 4.30 when Harry pulled the car into a park in front of Ruth's flat. He turned off the motor and helped Ruth with her bags. Inside her flat he hesitated, not sure whether he should just leave her to her unpacking and preparing for work the next day. He had made up his mind that he should leave her to it, and had opened his mouth, about to announce his leaving, when she looked up at him and frowned, watching his face closely.

"Harry," she said quietly, taking a step or two towards him, "where are you going? Are you afraid I'll not want you here .. in my life?" Again, she'd read his mind word for word, so he nodded. "So, what was the last twenty-four hours about, do you think?"

By this time he had taken a step closer to her, but had stopped, just in case she needed space … from him. "I know what it was about for me. I'm not sure if you want the same thing .. as I do."

"Why would you even think that?"

He sighed heavily, looking away from her for a moment while he organised his thoughts. "Because .. back just after the incident with .. Rigaut, you said you loved me, but we could never be together, and I said -"

"I remember what you said." Ruth's expression was clearly one of frustration, as she pursed her lips. Her eyes flashed as she said, "That was then, Harry. So much has happened since then. Taking time away from worked has helped .. to clear my mind." She looked away for a moment, clearly finding his focus on her confronting. "Then last night and this morning happened. It wasn't just .. sex for me, you know. I don't .. do that with just … anyone."

"Neither do I."

"I know that. I meant it, just as you clearly meant it." She reached out with her arms, and Harry took the three or four steps to her, and then they slid together as two pieces of a puzzle, their arms wound around the other. He held her so tightly that her nose pressed uncomfortably against his chest. "Harry," she said after a while, "I can't breathe." He loosened his hold on her, and then smiled into her eyes before he reached down to place a soft kiss on her lips.

They pulled apart a little, still touching, eyes watching the other. "What now?" he said, his voice hopeful.

"I want you to stay the night. I don't want to sleep alone, not when I have to be back at work tomorrow, and I need to walk onto the Grid with you. I need your strength .. and I'd like your support as well."

"You've always had my support, Ruth."

"Not always," she replied quickly, and he knew she was right.

So he left her to unpack while he drove home to shower and change and gather together his clothes for the next day, before picking up a takeaway meal and a bottle of wine on his way back to Ruth's flat.

By 10 o'clock they were in bed. Ruth had said she needed a good night's sleep, and Harry was just happy that it was him she wanted in her bed. He knew they wouldn't be spending every night together; it would not always be possible or practical. He turned on his side to face her, and found her lying on her side, facing him, one hand tucked beneath her cheek. He didn't know what to say. No, he knew what he wanted to say, but he was a man who edited his thoughts, and by the time he was ready to speak, none of his thoughts had made it to the starting gate. He watched her, waiting for her to speak first.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked at last.

"Not afraid, no."

"Then what?"

"I'm still .. uncharacteristically nervous .. about .. what it is you want .. from me."

She pursed her lips in what looked to Harry like irritation. "Let me draw you a picture. For the past eleven months I've slept alone, and tonight, for the second night in a row, you are sharing my bed. Does that answer your question?"

It did. Harry reached across and placed a soft kiss on her mouth. She snaked one arm around his neck and pulled him closer. They shared some more gentle, tender kisses, never tipping over into passion. They had an unspoken agreement that on that night they would sleep together and no more. Relieved, Harry rolled back onto his side of the bed and smiled at her. "Goodnight, Ruth," he said.

Ruth kissed the tip of her finger and placed it on his lips.

* * *

Harry had only just joined Ruth at the breakfast table when her phone rang from inside her bag. She reached across to the counter to grab her bag and retrieve her phone. He only heard her side of the conversation.

"Yes, good morning, Ros … yes, I have. … Why haven't you rung Harry about this? Right. .. I'll take a look at it before I leave for work. Send it to my home email address. … Thanks. Bye." Once she'd ended the call she looked across the table to where Harry had been listening. "She knows you're here. I swear that woman is psychic."

"I doubt it," Harry replied. "She's just observant. Nothing gets past her."

"Will she gossip?"

"About us?" Ruth nodded. "No. Ros is wise enough to see that I am a happier man when we are … together." Ruth smiled, and then concentrated on finishing her bowl of cereal. "What did she want?" he asked, once she'd finished eating.

"She's sending something she wants me to comment on. I suspect she'd like you to cast your eyes over it also."

"Now?" he asked, and Ruth nodded.

Her laptop was at one end of the table, so she opened it and woke it up, before opening her email account. The email from Ros was brief. _Take a look at this,_ she had written. _What do you see_? "Ros told me these are surveillance photographs from the Sutton Estate in Bromley. She mentioned that there has been a suspicion for some days that Bacillus anthacis is being stored somewhere in South London."

The first few images were from inside a flat, and another half dozen were taken in one room, which had been set up as a cold storage facility. Compared with images of the other rooms in the flat, the storage room appeared clean, with a number of small refrigeration units along one wall, while along the opposite wall several computers sat on a long table. Between the computers and the fridges was a wide metal-topped table with nothing on it. The remaining eight photographs were of people, clearly captured from a distance, taken while they were either entering or leaving the flat. The time stamps indicated that most of this activity had taken place on Thursday and Friday of the previous week. One was a young Asian woman, while the remainder were men. It was the last image which had Ruth and Harry sitting up straight and looking at one another.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Ruth asked.

Harry was visibly shocked – shocked and angry. "That's Lucas," he said unnecessarily. "What is he doing mixed up in this?"

"Isn't he under surveillance?"

"I heard that his surveillance was lifted a week ago. The agents were required elsewhere."

"So he's still looking to make a big sale," Ruth suggested, and Harry nodded.

* * *

Just prior to stepping through the pods, Harry looked at Ruth and lifted his eyebrows. Her reply was a slight nod. They walked through the pods together. On the Grid everyone appeared busy, and none gave any indication they'd noticed their arrival. "Do you think Ros instructed them to look away while we arrived together?" Ruth whispered.

Harry had turned towards his office when he stopped, turning back to Ruth. "No, Ruth," he said, "I suspect they're all busily working."

"Ah, Harry, Ruth." Dimitri strode across the floor from his desk, and hearing his greeting, Ros and Tariq looked up, and then stood and hurried towards them. In seconds, Ruth was surrounded by Dimitri, Ros and Tariq, closely followed by Tony, whom she barely knew, since he was always in the field. Dimitri and Tony shook her hand in turn, while Tariq patted her on the shoulder. Ros approached with more caution. Harry noticed that Ros walked without her cane.

"I hope you're prepared to leap tall buildings, Ruth, because I need you and Tariq to perform several miracles, and hopefully before lunch," Ros said dryly. "We need to put names to the images I sent you

"I'll see what I can do," Ruth said, and turning to Harry, she dipped her head, and then quickly headed to her desk.

Ros followed Harry into his office, and slid the door closed behind her. She sat on her usual chair, lifting one eyebrow. "Nice break?" she asked.

Harry took his time checking that his chair had not been tampered with, before he carefully sat down, gazing around at his desktop. "Do you really want to know?"

"No, I was just being polite."

"It was good to get out of London," Harry said at last, giving the first indication that Ruth had been somewhere outside the Greater London area. Ros twisted her lips in apparent disgust. He knew she considered him to have not a romantic bone in his body. At that moment, Harry didn't much care what Ros thought of him. There was only one person whose opinion of him mattered. "Where is Lucas now?" he asked, not wanting to discuss his weekend with anyone other than Ruth.

"I'm embarrassed to say that we lost him."

Harry sat back in his chair, looking past Ros to where Ruth was speaking to Tariq. "I'm inclined to let it go for now. It's the responsibility of Six to keep tabs on him, not us."

"But Harry, he's potentially a terrorist .. in our own city."

Just then there was a knock on Harry's office door, and before he had had a chance to answer, Tariq, followed by Ruth, entered the office. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but seeing the warning in Ruth's eyes, he closed his mouth.

"Harry, we've found Lucas," Tariq said quickly. "He's been seen in central London."

"Tariq's been running CCTV tapes all night," Ruth said, before again turning to Tariq. All Harry and Ros could do was look from one to the other.

"I found this image half an hour ago. It was captured yesterday afternoon," Tariq added, stepping close to Harry's desk and placing a sheet of A4 paper on the desk in front of Harry, who removed his reading glasses from the top pocket of his jacket and leaned over, examining the image on the paper. After he'd looked closely, he pocketed his glasses, and then turned the paper around for Ros to see.

"Who is it?" Ros asked, lifting one eyebrow.

"His name is Dai Zhang, and he's a former agent in the Ministry of State Security in China," Harry began. "To my knowledge he jumped before he was pushed. The information on the ground is that he was murdered after it was found that he'd had a relationship with a Japanese woman. He was high enough up in the order of things for him to have information to sell. He disappeared in 2007, and it was presumed that he'd been .."

Tariq made a slicing motion across his throat. Harry lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but Ruth and Ros both noticed the hint of a smile on his lips.

"What do you want us to do, Harry?" Ruth asked. Harry took his time, hoping to hit upon a simple solution. Hand the information to Six? That would be the easy way out, but the idea rankled.

"We could always hand the information to Six," Ruth suggested.

Harry shook his head. "Not this time. I need to find out what Lucas is up to. He was photographed leaving the flat where it is suspected anthrax bacteria was stored. Now the flat is empty. If anthrax had been held in that flat, it's now somewhere else."

"Do you want me to arrange a meeting with Lucas?" Ros asked.

"I was thinking I should be the one to meet with him," Harry replied. He chanced a quick glance at Ruth, and caught her frown before her expression again became non-committal. "Tariq, thank you for that information," he added. "I appreciate your quick work," he said, chiefly as a sign that the younger man was dismissed.

"I'd be happier were it me meeting him," Ros said, once Tariq had closed the door behind him. "I'm afraid your .. history with Lucas will interfere."

"You don't need me here," Ruth said, turning for the door.

"Ruth -" Ros said, but she had already closed the door behind her. "Well," Ros said, "at the very least that's going to cost you a bunch of flowers."

Harry sighed. "I'm not happy with you going alone, Ros." he said, blocking out thoughts of what Ruth might be thinking.

"There is no other option," Ros replied.

Harry leaned back in his chair, grasping his chin between his thumb and forefinger, as he stared through the window above Ros's head, seeing nothing. He thought about what was best, and he thought about what was right. Then he considered what option had the best chance of Lucas opening up and providing some honest and useful intel for Section D. Ros was right; the best option would be for him to stay out of it. He and Lucas had not trusted one another for some time, and for him to meet Lucas and expect him to provide answers was not only risky, it was also naive.

"As much as I hate to say this," he said at last, "I believe you're right." He looked up to see Ros's face bearing an uncharacteristic smile. "But we need to be prepared. You will need to wear an earpiece as well as a microphone. Tariq has all the gear, so he'll know what to do. We need to be able to hear you, and you need to hear us. I'll put Ruth on our end, but I'd like to listen in."

And so they spent the next hour preparing for Ros's meeting with Lucas, which in the meantime, had been arranged for mid afternoon.

* * *

Soon after Ros left to meet Lucas at a coffee shop a block or so from his new apartment, Harry took himself to the roof terrace for some fresh air. He'd only been there ten minutes when he was joined by Ruth.

"You surprise me," she said, standing next to him, her hands grasping the railing, but not touching his. He turned to look into her eyes, his eyebrows lifted slightly. "You capitulated rather more easily than expected," she added.

"I suppose .. I realised I'm not a young man any more, and that I should ..." His voice faded as he realised how pompous his words sounded. Ruth nodded, and turned so that her gaze reached the buildings across the street. He watched her closely, willing her to again look at him. He hoped he hadn't disappointed her, or worse, let her down. "What do you think?" he asked.

"I think you should leave jobs like this to agents who regularly work in the field."

He felt chastised, but he knew she was right. She generally was. His eyes never left her, and eventually she turned to look up at him. He knew she wanted to say something, but she was choosing her moment, or her words, or both. "What is it?" he asked gently. Ruth took a breath to speak, and then changed her mind. "Please, Ruth. Just say whatever is on your mind."

So she did.

"I've been thinking." Ruth turned again to stare at the matrix of glass windows of the building opposite. "What if Lucas isn't really looking to acquire the anthrax?"

"What do you mean?"

Again, she turned to look into Harry's eyes. He tried to conjure the way she had looked at him while they'd been in bed together, but it was as though it had occurred in another lifetime. "Have you rung Lucas's section head?"

"Kadir Khan?" Ruth nodded. "Why would I do that?"

Ruth's mobile phone buzzed with a text message, so she took the phone from the pocket of her jacket and opened it. "It's Tariq," she said. "Ros is in place, but Lucas isn't there yet. I'd better go."

Harry reached out then and lightly grasped her hand. She looked down at their hands, and then up at him, surprise evident in her eyes. "Not until you answer my question, Ruth. Why should I ring Kadir Khan?"

Ruth squeezed his hand in what he thought was probably an unconscious gesture. "Because it's possible that Lucas is already working for Six, and that he's -"

"- undercover?"

Ruth nodded. "It's possible."

 _Jesus_. Why hadn't he thought of that? Where had his head been? He took out his phone to make the call to Khan, and by the time he'd woken his phone, Ruth was already through the door and descending the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

12\. Do you want a mark out of ten?

Once he'd ended his call to Kadir Khan, Harry tried calling Ros, but the call went immediately to voice mail. _Shit!_ Either she had turned off her phone, or something had happened to her. It took only a second of imagining Ros being hurt for him to recognise the pain it would bring him, as well as the section, were something to happen to her. She had volunteered for a task which on the surface had appeared so simple, but in reality could get her killed.

Harry's next call was to Ruth, and thankfully, she answered immediately. "Lucas is undercover for Six," Harry said quickly, "and he's taking part in the sale of the anthrax."

"Right," was all Ruth said before ending the call.

Harry hurried through the door, and down the stairs, and taking them two at a time, he was soon back on the Grid. He strode to Tariq's work station to see Tariq, Ruth and Dimitri listening in. Harry tried to gain eye contact with Ruth, but she was having none of it. The tension in all three was almost visible in the air around them. Without looking at him, Tariq found a spare set of head phones which he plugged into his computer, and then lifted them towards Harry, who slid them over his ears. What he heard surprised him.

* * *

"Who the hell are you?" Ros said with characteristic distaste, hoping the smartly dressed Chinese man would not be offended, and would leave her be. He appeared unaffected by her deliberate rudeness, taking a seat in the chair opposite. She knew who he was. Harry had identified him from the CCTV footage. In close-up, he looked pleasant enough, but she knew looks to be little more than a thin veneer, and barely the essence of the person within.

"Mr North has been .. detained," the man said, staring across the table at Ros, who was hoping she appeared as unaffected by his presence as she was pretending to be. She had been in far worse situations that this, and if she played this straight, it should work in her favour.

"All I was after was a coffee and a catch-up," she said dryly "which is a bit difficult to do with someone I've never met." She turned in her seat to retrieve her bag from over the back of her chair when the man spoke.

"My name is Dai Zhang," he said, nodding formally to Ros. "Would you like coffee? I can order for you."

"No, as kind as that offer is, I think I'll pass." Ros's smile was false, with only her mouth moving. Realising that this man wanted to engage her in conversation, she stood, grabbing her bag, and sliding the strap over her shoulder. _Get out of there now, Ros,_ she heard Harry's voice in her earpiece. _Get out and don't look back. I'll have Alec and Tony follow Zhang, so all is not lost._ "Look," she said, standing and looking down at Zhang's face, his expression unreadable, "Lucas was only ever a bit of fun for me. I know I can do better, so if you'll pardon me, I have better things to be -"

"We may have to take him with us," Zhang said with narrowed eyes watching her closely.

"Be my guest. Any man who fails to turn up for a coffee is a non-starter for me," and as quickly as she was able, she walked towards the door, looking straight ahead of her while she heard Ruth's calm voice in her ear. _Just keep going, Ros._ _Once through_ _the doorway,_ _turn and head_ _straight to your car._ _If he follows you, ignore him._ _Chances are, all he wants is to unsettle you._ Ros longed to tell Ruth to be quiet, but she knew the analyst meant well, and was being supportive, just in case the explosion in the hotel, as well as leaving her severely injured, had also divested her of all her spy skills and instincts. Ros resisted a powerful urge to tell Ruth to patronise someone else.

It wasn't until Ros was in the drivers' seat of her car that she looked in the rear view mirror to see Dai Zhang standing in the coffee shop doorway, calmly watching her. "Fucking control freak," she said quietly, but not so quietly that she hadn't been heard by those on the Grid.

 _Get out of there, Ros,_ Harry said in her ear, _and take a circuitous route back to Thames House, and turn on your bloody phone!_

"I hadn't wanted to be distracted by you ringing me every five minutes," she said sulkily, and so once she'd turned on her phone, she started her car and drove off. She had no intention of hurrying back to Thames House.

* * *

While Ros had driven to another coffee shop she'd once visited with Lucas, in the faint hope he may turn up later, Ruth peeled herself away from Tariq's work station, choosing to return to her own translating task, which she'd only been free to work on for a couple of hours during the morning. She noted that Harry was already in his office, and on a phone call. Ruth covered her ears with head phones, and got to work. As she saw it, Mi6 needed to be handling the remainder of the anthrax operation, and whether Lucas North was involved or not, and in what capacity, was no longer the concern of Section D. She also suspected that Harry was not about to let it go, and she was right.

She had only just managed to lose herself in her translating, when a mug of tea was placed on the desk in front of her. She looked up to see Harry grab a chair from a nearby desk, and draw it close to her desk before he sat down. "Thanks," she said, removing her head phones, and picking up the cup, cradling it between her hands while blowing across the surface of the tea. "You clearly don't want me to make progress with this enormous amount of translating."

"I thought GCHQ had that in hand."

"Not the Arabic. Their Arabic translators are pedestrian."

Harry watched her, but didn't react to her comment about the translating. "I've just made two phone calls - one to Alec White, and the other to Kalid Khan."

"He'll begin to think you have a thing for him, Harry."

"Who? Alec?"

"No. Khan. I take it you've got Alec and Tony following Dai Zhang."

"I have."

"So that they'll stumble into a Six operation."

"Not exactly."

"What then?"

Harry could see that Ruth was annoyed, both with his interrupting her while she was working, as well as his apparent fixation on a former member of his team. "I know you think I should let this go, Ruth, but Khan had a suggestion. He doesn't place a lot of faith in Lucas's ability to remain undercover."

"Which is evident from Dai Zhang's meeting Ros in Lucas's place. How did that even happen?"

"If Zhang can escape from the Chinese secret police, then identifying Lucas would be easy." Harry took a sip from his own cup of coffee, and the made a face. "I forgot to add sugar."

Despite herself, Ruth smiled. Harry loved his sugar. "What did Khan suggest?" Harry took another sip from his sugarless coffee, and again his face twisted in distaste. "Harry, why don't you get some sugar from the kitchen?"

"I'm trying to cut down," he said, glancing up at her, "in an attempt to look better … naked."

Ruth was momentarily shocked by his honesty. "I think you look fine naked." She looked around her warily. "Is this place bugged?"

"Not at the moment, no. Are you sure .. about the naked .. thing."

"Of course I'm sure. You have a lovely body."

"There's no need to go overboard."

"I'm not. I mean it."

Ruth believed that Harry was relieved to have been distracted from the subject of his phone call with Kalid Khan, so she waited. Eventually, after taking three more mouthfuls of his tasteless coffee, Harry put down his cup, and sat back in his chair, his eyes on her. For a long moment he gazed at her, thinking how lucky he was that she had at last let down her guard enough to risk beginning a relationship of intimacy with him. He had long ago resigned himself to that never happening for them. Too much had happened, much of it tragic, events which had changed them forever, hurts that could not be healed with a dab of antiseptic and a band-aid. They were each of them broken people, but perhaps together they could assist and accompany one another through the minefield that was their life.

"Khan has a suspicion that, while Lucas is meant to be working undercover for Six, he is planning to -"

"- join the opposing side and steal the anthrax," Ruth finishes his thought.

Harry was shocked by her insight. "How did you know?"

"I didn't. It's just that, given his recent behaviour, and his loss of Maya Lahan, he is likely to see the sale of the anthrax as an opportunity." Harry nodded. "The other thing is that we have an image of him meeting Dai Zhang. My gut feeling is that he didn't have to pretend when he was with Zhang. He has joined the opposing team."

This time Harry sighed heavily. "Khan has asked that Alec and Tony and Dimitri join his team to stop the sale of the anthrax. I'd really like to be there also, but .."

"I need you here .. where I can keep an eye on you." Harry said nothing, but his neutral expression had become a frown. "I'd prefer you alive, Harry. You're not much good to me dead." He continued watching her for a long time. As insecure as he'd been around Ruth, she certainly seemed to want him in her life. Ruth returned his scrutiny. "I meant what I said. While I was in Cornwall I did a lot of thinking, and it became very clear to me that you and I should … put our efforts into a life spent in tandem."

"It's a long time since I've heard that term," he said quietly.

"What term? A life in tandem?"

Harry nodded. "It's rather old fashioned. My mother used it to describe anyone who was living as a couple."

This time it was Ruth who scrutinised him. "That's the first time I've ever heard you mention your mother, Harry. I've known you … more than seven years, and that's the first time I've heard you mention either of your parents."

He nodded. "I only ever mention them to those I care about."

"Thank you." Ruth put down her mug, having drained the remainder of the tea. "Now, I need to continue with this translating, and you have to -"

"I know, I know," he said, standing and replacing the chair. Then he grabbed both cups, turned and took them to the kitchen. Throughout the exchange they had not touched, but they hadn't needed to; they had touched in other ways.

* * *

By the time Ros Myers returned to the Grid, it was close to 6 o'clock, and seeing the remainder of the team in the meeting room, she entered the room through the double doors. All faces lifted to hers as she crossed the room to sit beside Tariq Masood. "You're a grim lot. Has somebody died?" The silence which ensued told her that her words had struck a chord. She looked around the table where Harry, Ruth, Tariq, Dimitri and Alec sat. "But we're all here," she said.

"Yes, we are," replied Harry. "The reason Lucas didn't meet you was -"

" _Lucas_?" Ros's face became pale as alabaster.

Harry sighed while Ruth continued the story in a voice absent of emotion. "Today at just after 4 o'clock, the sale of the anthrax was interrupted by a team from Mi6 – which included Alec and Dimitri ... and Tony, who is still at the scene. In the scuffle which ensued, both Lucas North and Dai Zhang were shot and killed."

"I don't care about Dai Zhang," Ros spat. "He was a slug, but Lucas? Couldn't they have done anything to save him?"

"He was shot through the chest," Ruth said quietly. "He was dead within a minute."

"I witnessed what happened," Dimitri said, interrupting Ruth, his eyes on the table in front of him. "He stepped between Joe Gregory and one of the Chinese contingent, and Joe had no alternative but to shoot. Had he not, the Chinese would have got away. They had a helicopter ready to go. Joe's decision saved the anthrax. It's now on its way to Porton Down."

Suddenly the door opened, and a junior admin girl stuck her head around the door. "Harry? There's a call for you," so Harry quickly left the room. All the while, Ros sat still, staring at the wall opposite.

"Perhaps this is a good place to end the meeting," Ruth said quietly.

"Don't end it because of me," Ros snapped. "I'm fine."

Ruth could see that Ros was anything but fine. Her face was pale, her eyes flinty, and her jaw set. She was a very long way from fine. "There are still a couple of things, but they can wait until morning," Ruth said.

Ros appeared not to have heard her. It was apparent she was struggling to maintain composure. Ruth thought that Lucas only ever threw everything he had into dodgy deals and unavailable women, but she hadn't known him like Harry or Ros had known him. "I'm calling the meeting to a close," she added.

Everyone other than Ros left the meeting room. Ruth considered sitting for a while to keep Ros company, but she knew that Ros would prefer being alone. By the time she reached her desk, Harry had finished his phone call. He looked up to see Ruth's eyes on him, so he dipped his head to indicate she should join him.

"How is Ros?" he said as Ruth sat on the chair opposite him.

"Not good. She appears to be in shock."

"Is no-one with her?"

"She was only ever close to you and Lucas. In her eyes she's lost half her team." Ruth watched Harry for a moment, hoping he could read her mind, because she was unsure how to say what needed to be said. "Perhaps ..." she began.

"You think I should go back and … what … _comfort_ her?"

"Not comfort her, exactly. I doubt Ros will -"

Ruth's words were cut short when Ros slid open the door to Harry's office, and angrily barged in. "Thank you, Harry, for not trying to talk Lucas out of going undercover."

"You don't need me here," Ruth said, and quickly left the room, sliding the door closed behind her, effectively shutting out any sound from within the office.

* * *

By the time Ros left Harry's office and then the Grid it was close to 7 o'clock, and Ruth was the only one left working. She had managed to spend an extra fifty minutes on the Arabic translations, so she considered the time well spent. When next she looked up, Harry was standing close to her desk, his eyes dark and troubled.

Ruth looked around her at the darkened office space. "Ros?" she asked.

Harry passed his hand over his face in a gesture of weariness. "She's gone straight home," he said.

"Did she manage to say everything she needed to say?"

This time Harry sighed heavily, something he'd been doing a lot that day. "I hope so. She certainly had a lot of vitriol saved up just for me."

Ruth reached out with one hand, and she was relieved when Harry grasped her hand in his, and then perched himself on the corner of her desk, resting both their hands on his knee. "You didn't deserve that," she said.

"In her eyes I did."

"It's displaced grief," Ruth said.

Harry emitted a sharp laugh. "That sounds like Felicity-speak."

"Perhaps, but it's true, and you know it."

Harry nodded. "When do you next have to see her?"

"Felicity?" Harry nodded. "Tomorrow. I'll be leaving work at four tomorrow. I trust that the day will be a lot less dramatic than today. Will Ros be all right, do you think?"

Harry nodded. "She's not the kind of person to welcome people offering her comfort. She prefers to deal with life's biggest challenges alone. She'll go home, have a few drinks, throw things around, and then pass out."

"She's lost so much," Ruth said, watching Harry closely, for any sign that he was not travelling as well as he appeared. He had lost someone also. There was a long moment during which neither spoke, their only link being through their hands. "Come home with me tonight," she said, her voice very quiet, her tone gentle.

Harry looked up to see her eyes on him. For a moment he was able to forget that he was at work, that he still had a report to write, and that he needed a good night's sleep. "I have a better idea," he said. "Why don't you come back to mine?"

Ruth stood and began gathering her things, in between turning off and shutting down her system. Harry stood by, waiting for her answer. When she stood before him, her bag in one hand and her coat over her arm, he stepped close to her so that he could slide his hands around her waist and draw her to him. "Harry .. the cameras," she said, trying to pull away, but he had her in a firm grasp.

"Bugger the cameras. It's hours since I kissed you," and he bent closer to place his mouth on hers. Considering where they were, the kiss was surprisingly hungry and bordering on passion, and Ruth soon found herself leaning against him, longing for so much more than a kiss. "Well?" he said, once they had pulled apart.

"Well what? Do you want a mark out of ten?"

For the first time since he'd discovered the fate of Lucas North, Harry smiled a wide smile. "That would be lovely, but I'd rather you came back to my place tonight."

Ruth nodded. With or without Harry, she didn't fancy being in her dark and cold flat. "If we can swing by my flat and pick up my clothes for tomorrow .. that is, if you want me staying the night," she added coyly.

Again Harry smiled. "Of course I want you staying the night, Ruth. What is it you said we are … in tandem?"

Ruth nodded, and they crossed the Grid floor towards the doorway, holding hands all the way. "Security will have a field day with the images from in here tonight."

"It'll be the most fun they've had since Zaf Younis hung mistletoe over the door to the kitchen."

Ruth felt a sharp stab of pain at the mention of Zaf's name, but then, Zaf wouldn't want them to be sad. Just before the doorway, she pulled on Harry's hand so that he stopped to look down at her, a question in his eyes. "I just realised something," Ruth said. "Lucas wasn't afraid to die. He was unhappy, and lost, and he saw his sacrifice as the only way out. I don't think we should be labelling his death a tragedy, Harry."

Harry nodded. He wasn't convinced, but he'd allow himself to contemplate the idea that from the moment he'd returned to London, Lucas North had been heading directly to his death. It was a sobering thought, and perhaps even a truthful one. "Let's go home," he said, "I'm starving."

* * *

 _ **A/N : This was originally the final chapter, but then I just couldn't leave it there. Just an epilogue to go.**_


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N : This is the final chapter, with yet another twist, which I could not resist, just to veer even further from canon, so I hope it works. Thank you to all who have followed this story, and especially to the kindness of the reviewers.**_

* * *

13\. What really happened.

Once they'd finished eating dinner, Ruth settled on the sofa in Harry's living room to watch a late night news service on TV, while Harry tidied the kitchen. Ruth was continually surprised and pleased with Harry's level of domesticity. Most single men she'd known in her past had overlooked details like crumbs left on the bench, or dirty dishes piled in the sink, and the very idea of making a bed had been something the men in her life had considered unnecessary and a waste of valuable time. Perhaps Harry's time in the army had conditioned him to preferring a tidy living space. Compared with him, Ruth's habits bordered on the slovenly, so she was content to step aside while he tidied, washed and wiped. She often offered to help, but he mostly preferred to tidy up on his own. He had standards, and they were rather high.

They were both looking forward to a relatively early night, when the front doorbell rang. Ruth looked up in surprise. It was almost 9.30.

"Christ on a bike!" she heard Harry say, a little too loudly.

"Do you want me to get that?" Ruth called out.

"No, you stay where you are," he said, striding down the hallway to the front door, grumbling to himself all the way.

Ruth muted the sound on the TV, keeping her eyes on the screen, while listening as Harry opened the front door to his visitor. She was surprised to hear the gravelly voice of Alec White, but was unable to make out the conversation which followed. Within five minutes their conversation stopped, and she heard Harry ask Alec inside. "Ruth will want to hear this," he said, closing the front door. "Alec has news," Harry added, as he led the other man into the room. This time Ruth grabbed the remote control to turn off the TV, and turned to face the two men. Their faces gave nothing away.

"Would you like a coffee, Alec?" she asked, catching Harry's slight shake of his head as she spoke.

"Thanks, but no," Alec said. "I just thought I should let Harry know what really happened this afternoon."

"What _really_ happened?" Alec nodded, and when Ruth glanced at Harry, all she saw was his usual spook face, devoid of emotional expression. "Would you like to sit down, Alec?"

"I think I'll stand, thanks. I've just told Harry the truth about what happened today. Dimitri nominated himself to do this, but he's at A&E."

"The hospital?" Ruth had no idea what Alec was trying to say. "Is Dimitri hurt?"

"He needs stitches," Alec replied, "to his head," and Alec pointed to his own forehead, just above his left eye. "He went to see Ros Myers at her apartment, and when he told her what I'm about to tell you, she smashed a coffee mug on her kitchen counter. There was no coffee in it, but a jagged piece from the mug bounced up and caught Dimitri above his eye and left rather a nasty gash. Ros was pretty pissed off."

 _Clearly._ "So ..." and looking at Harry, Ruth could see that she should just be quiet and let Alec speak.

Alec, meanwhile, had been glancing from Harry to Ruth, and then back again. He had understood there to be something between the two of them, although nothing had been said directly to him. Then again, no-one on the team ever told him anything. Ruth appeared quite at home in Harry's house, so clearly she was a welcome visitor, and far more to Harry than just his senior analyst. It appeared to him that they'd be doing some serious analysing of their own once he left. "Lucas North isn't dead," he said quietly. "He's .. defected .. kind of. He and Dai Zhang made a deal with the Chinese, arranging for the anthrax to remain in England, provided this left them free to leave the country. By the time Jack and Tony and I had reached the handover point, Zhang and Lucas were about to board the helicopter, and the Chinese had been paid off, and were in the process of leaving. No dramas, and no shots were fired."

In her confusion Ruth again looked up at Harry, but he was staring at his shoes. Bloody coward. "Then why did you and Dimitri report him as dead?"

"I asked the very same thing," Harry growled, glaring at Alec.

Alec scratched the back of his head before continuing. "At the time, it seemed like the best way to go, but … Dimitri changed his mind. I think it was to do with Ros' reaction to the news; it made him feel bad. In retrospect, we didn't set it up terribly well, but we had so little time to .. work out how best to respond. Lucas needed to get out of his contract with Mi6, so he thought that faking his death would be .. best." Alec's earlier confidence was fast fading. "He didn't want to be going to Pakistan any more than he wanted to return to Russia. Dai Zhang is already officially dead, so Lucas decided to .. join him."

"But that's good news, isn't it? Harry?"

"Only if you overlook the deception."

"But that's what we do," Ruth replied, suddenly irritated with Harry. He was one to talk. He could be the most deceptive of them all.

Alec, feeling uncomfortable with the vibe which had emerged between his boss, and his boss's analyst/girlfriend/paramour, continued with the story. "Dai Zhang met Ros at the coffee shop to inform her of their plans. He hadn't expected her to get up and leave."

"Thank you, Alec, I think we get the picture. I'll see you out," and Harry abruptly turned, leading Alec from the room, and down the hallway to the front door. He returned to the living room just as promptly, sitting on the sofa beside Ruth.

"You didn't have to send him away like that, Harry. You could have offered him a drink."

Harry sighed, gazing at her sadly. "I'm wondering why they – Alec, Dimitri, and the two junior officers – thought it was a good idea to let us all think Lucas is dead."

"Alec implied it was what Lucas wanted. Were there no other witnesses?"

"I think there were a couple of agents from Six, but they were foot soldiers, and didn't know who he was. The person who needed to believe him dead is his section head at Six." Harry leaned forward and rubbed his forehead with his fingers, a sign that his stress levels were rising, so Ruth shuffled across the sofa to sit close to him, so that she could place a comforting hand on his forearm. "The only thing which now worries me," Harry continued, turning to look at her, "is were Kadir Khan to get wind of what really happened today. He has a particularly long memory."

"As I've said previously, Harry, I'm sure what Khan knows or doesn't know is not your business."

Harry sat back on the sofa and leaned towards Ruth, the slightest of smiles turning his lips. He watched her for a long moment before he slid an arm around her shoulders, and gently drew her against him. Then he sighed a deep sigh. "Is it wrong of me to feel betrayed all over again?"

"I don't think he did it to annoy you, Harry. His decision wasn't personal. I suspect he just wanted to .. gain some control over his destiny. Isn't that what we all want?"

Again Harry sighed, but not so heavily this time. "I suppose you're right," he said quietly. "I'm just wondering why he didn't let me know first."

"I can think of around a hundred reasons."

"He could at least have told Ros," Harry continued, as if he hadn't heard what Ruth had said. "The very least he could have done was tell her."

"And risk her telling you? Harry, Lucas is insecure, and confused. He wasn't thinking about anyone other than himself, and perhaps that's what he needs to do from now on. He's lost Maya, and so now he has to look after number one."

"I'm sick of Lucas North, Ruth. I don't mind if I never hear his name again."

"That's a bit extreme. Did Alec say where North and Zhang have gone?"

"Hong Kong was mentioned, but I'm not sure even he knows. I suspect they'll head for somewhere in south-east Asia, but not China."

"If they want to avoid China, they'll also need to avoid Hong Kong."

"I suspect they're using legends, Ruth, and besides, Dai Zhang is officially dead, so the Chinese government would hardly be expecting him to turn up in Hong Kong." Harry's voice had become weary. It had been a stressful day for him, and rather than him being relieved and glad that Lucas was still alive, he was more than mildly irritated.

"I'd quite like a glass of wine," Ruth said after a few minutes of silence, so Harry removed his arm from around her, and headed to the kitchen for wine.

He returned to the living room with two glasses, and the half bottle of white wine which they'd started with dinner. He poured wine into both glasses, and when he handed Ruth her glass, he lifted his own glass in a toast. "To us, Ruth. May we never have to leave the country again to save anyone at all, even ourselves."

"That's a bit .. specific," she said, her brow furrowing.

Harry had been about to take a sip from his own glass, but her words stopped him. "Why? I don't want you or me to have to exile ourselves again, whether together or apart."

"Then let's hope we're not forced into a position where that has to happen .. again." Again he was about to lift his glass to his lips when his phone rang from where it sat on the coffee table. "Bloody hell," he said, and glancing at the called ID, he lifted the phone to his ear. "Ros," he answered, trying to sound cheery.

Ruth sat beside him, sipping her own wine, while he listened to Ros, whose voice Ruth could hear loud and clear through the loudspeaker, as Harry's section chief chewed him out. All Harry managed to say was, "I'm sorry, Ros," and, "It was news to me, too", "I'm as shocked as you are," and – at last - "Goodnight, Ros."

Harry very carefully placed his phone on the coffee table before he grabbed his glass and took a big gulp of wine. "That was fun," he said at last.

"Why would she take out her anger on you?"

"Because I'm here, and Lucas is not. According to Ros, it was my idea that Lucas defect without telling anyone."

"At least you gave her the opportunity to get it off her chest," Ruth said, placing her glass, now empty, on the coffee table next to the wine bottle.

"I do have my uses," Harry said, lifting one eyebrow at Ruth.

"Speaking of your uses .."

"I thought you'd never ask."

"I haven't asked yet," Ruth said quickly.

"But you were about to … weren't you?"

"You already know me too well. Let's go upstairs."

Harry leaned forward and lifted the wine bottle, where around a half glass of wine sat in the bottom. "Sure you don't want a top up?" he asked.

"I'd rather go to bed with you."

Harry stood, and placed the wine bottle back on the table, along with his glass. He took Ruth's glass from her, and placed that next to his own glass, then he reached out to grasp her hand in his. "That's the best idea you've had all day."

"I thought so, too," and as they left the room, Harry reached up to turn out the light.


End file.
